The Woods
by eotopia
Summary: There are no horrors out here she tells herself, just the ones she left in the city. E/O.
1. Chapter 1

She arches her back in bed, trying to get comfortable.

 _Three months._

You'd think she would have broken the bed in by now.

But it still feels firmer than it did the day she bought it, she can still feel the plastic wrap from the mattress long since removed, she can still smell the fresh wood of the headboard as if it were cut down from it's tree yesterday.

She arches again, moving onto her side. The strong scent of mahogany tickles her nostrils, a mixture of palm and oak seeping in from the open window. She flips onto her back once more. The crack of window letting cool night air flit across her skin as she tries to will herself to sleep.

A shiver runs through her body, her nipples pebbling from the breeze, her thin tank top well worn from the months in this room, this cabin - this town. She pulls the comforter up to her neck and closes her eyes.

It's been three months since the incident.

Three months since she entered witness protection.

And she only had _three_ more to go.

She was officially half way through her 6-month sentence.

Half way until she could see him again, talk to him..

She can still feel the sensitive spot between her shoulder blades where the piercing slice of metal penetrated skin and muscle as if it were yesterday. She can still hear Elliot's shooting scream, her eyes, damp with moisture as she blinked up at him, a rush of blood rising in her throat and running down her chin.

She knew from the look in his eyes that he thought he'd lost her.

And in the darkest parts of the night she wakes to the same numbness from that night as she relives the moment her life spilled out onto the sidewalk that cold February evening.

* * *

It's two hours before dawn when she hears it.

A small twig snapping outside her bedroom window and her eyes blink open.

Her heart begins to thud, her mind instantly telling her to calm down, her fingers instinctively curl towards the service weapon she no longer houses in the bedside table. _Stop_ , she tells herself sleepily, _go back to sleep_ , she wills. _It's nothing._

It's not the first branch she's heard throughout the months and she knows it won't be the last. The last time it was a deer, foraging around for food, the time before that it was George, the stray dog that lives in town who'd wandered too far down the dirt road.

She hears a second twig snap and she's up, dragging the worn cardigan from the end of her bed, tugging it on and padding out to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She's not even going to give the sounds attention anymore, the more focus she puts upon these imaginary intruders, the longer she spends riding out her weekly tangent of insomnia.

She drains half a glass of water, her breath fogging up the cup as it hovers above her mouth. Her eyes scan across the glass doors that curtain the wooden verandah and she watches the branches dance through the darkness.

 _There are no horrors out here,_ she tells herself, just the ones she left in the city.

God she misses him.

She feels her throat start to tighten at the thought.

She lets out a tired breath as her glass returns to the wooden countertop with a thud. _Stop,_ she tells herself.

If she's learnt anything over the course of 3 long months of solidarity it's that thoughts about _him_ are more detrimental to her than imaginary sounds.

 _Three more months_ , she thinks, and then she'll have her life back.

She'll have her partner back.

* * *

She takes a brief trip to the toilet before she pads back to her room using the elastic band around her wrist to tie up her loose strands in a ponytail.

That's when she hears it.

The side table next to the couch in the living room moving an inch. Just an inch.

She stills. A thunderous fear thudding through her chest as her body implodes with goosebumps.

That wasn't a twig - or a rustle - or a branch against window pane.

That was clear as day in the middle of the night.

 _Coming from inside the house._

Her heart hammers as she slowly backs up against the wooden dresser her eyes plastered on the bedroom door she'd left ajar.

That was a squeak of a table against floorboards.

Her hand slips into the top draw of her dresser until she's grasping the fishing knife she'd placed there from the day she moved in. She holds it down to her side, pressing her lips in a thin white line to stop them shaking. Her chest pounds. The concept of her holding a knife after she'd experienced one slice through her shoulder blades makes her body break out in a sweat.

 _She stills._ An eerie silence threading through the room as she waits for a second sound to back up the first. Then she hears it - a floorboard creek, closer to her bedroom this time and her eyes prick with tears.

 _No._

She is trembling. Her feet are bare, she's bra less in a worn out tank and cardigan and it hits her how broken she really is, how weakened her resolve has become. She had expected her time in the woods to be somewhat healing and cathartic, but she feels bare-naked out here.

Raw. Exposed. Vulnerable.

 _Thompson._

How the hell did he find her?

She had been so damn careful. No one in town knew her real name, she had limited her interactions, all her documentation was altered – license, passport, social security number. She'd even dyed her hair lighter eradicating as much of her former self as possible. So much so that she didn't even recognize parts of herself anymore.

She needed to find herself again.

 _Olivia Benson._

 _Slacks, NYC cement and a sig._

Her hands are trembling now as she eyes her unplugged phone on the bedside table. A Nokia from the early 2000's with a battery life of a box of hair.

It was probably on it's last legs by now.

Why the hell didn't she plug it in?

 _Olivia Benson would have plugged it in._

But it didn't matter, she'd have to move 10 paces across hardwood floor just to get it, praying each and every floorboard didn't give away her presence.

Her best bet was to stay perfectly still.

She wraps her fingers tightly around the knife just waiting for her intruder to enter. Then she sees it, her bedroom door starting to open with one, long, spine-curdling creek.

* * *

She sees a form enter.

Large, masculine.

 _Thompson._

She doesn't think.

She charges towards him, her knife positioned right at the base of his neck but he swings around, a sound of alarm escaping her as he grasps her wrist, moving her firmly back up against the dresser, the entire contents rattle until items come crashing down onto the hardwood floor.

He thuds her wrist against the dresser until the knife drops to the floor with a clang, her heart hammers as she tries to wretch out of his grasp but she loses her footing on the hem of her pajama pants until she's falling downward.

A shaggy rug breaks her fall before her body breaks his and all the air escapes her lungs. A flood of imagery pulverizes her chest as she feels the intruder grasp her wrists and pin them both against wood, holding them in place.

She closes her eyes, she doesn't want to see him, she doesn't want to be here, in fact she's ready for this to end – right here, right _now_ -

"Stop," he rasps in panic, his breath expelling on her neck and her eyes blink open in shock, her heart hammering in her chest at the tone of his voice.

"It's me."

 _Elliot._

His hips are wedged between her legs, every crevice of his body holding her firmly against wood. Her heart is hammering in her chest like a jackhammer and she is deathly silent. No part of her mind is able to comprehend that it's Elliot Stabler, in her cabin, in the woods, in her bedroom - on top of her.

"I'm sorry," his hands soften on her wrists but his body doesn't follow suit just yet. "I didn't mean to scare you," his words trip over themselves, still testing her reaction to him, seemingly worried that if he moves off her she's going to lunge for the knife at any moment.

"It's me Liv," he repeats.

Her lips part in shock. This has to be a dream she thinks. This can't be real. But she can feel every muscle, every limb, his hip bones, her fingers curled around her wrists, the breath on her neck, the scent of his aftershave.

This is all very, _very_ real.

She opens her eyes and his face comes into view. She holds his stare through a moon drenched room as her eyes adjust to the darkness. He slowly starts to release her wrists and lift his body off hers so he's no longer crushing her.

When he's completely off her she runs a hand over her face and blows out a heavy breath.

"Elliot…" she breathes out, in shaky, rattled breath.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: I must apologise. I started writing this story a while back and I had no idea how to pick it up again so I just started writing it mid scene hoping that would solve my writers block lol. Thanks for your very kind reviews, you guys are always so supportive when I start a new story. I know this isn't a super long update but I'm hoping it will be enough to get my momentum going again. Sidebar Melonian4Life: "God why do I never learn! You're really going to leave us hanging right there for Lord knows how long aren't you?" LOL yes I'm afraid I did (unintentionally) for 3 months! Which is on par with Liv's stay actual stay in this cabin so far. Deplorable._

* * *

She nurses the cup of tea, her fingers tapping lightly on the ceramic mug as she mirrors his stance on her sofa opposite. The sun peaks out over the trees behind his head as the golden dawn sky lights up the living room.

She takes a sip, the peppermint flavor gently soothing her stomach. Her heart rate has had a chance to settle down and she's now adorning a bra, pants and a hair tie.

He had briefly explained that it was Cragen who had sent him, that the information of her whereabouts were given to him, _and him only,_ but that was all the details she had. The rest seemed to be dangling on the tip of his tongue, housed somewhere between a concerned look in his eyes and his fidgeting fingers.

"Thompson." Elliot answers her unspoken question. "He escaped Rikers.. on Tuesday."

She takes a few moments for the reality of that to digest, her mind reeling at the improbability of that fact.

 _W_ _hat are the odds that the one psychopath with a personal vendetta for her has escaped prison?_

She looks down at the floating tea bag, using her thumb and forefinger to lightly tug it until it's bobbing up and down in the liquid, a sea of green spilling through the darkened water.

"Okay," she responds, noticing a side effect of her lengthy absence is her inability to articulate or converse with others.

"Should I be worried?" She tries not to react too strongly until she has the bulk of the information. "Is there cause for concern?"

He looks down at his own mug at that point and she watches his adams apple bob uneasily up and down.

"Enough that it's brought me here Liv."

His eyes lift up and he watches her reaction fill her features.

Her eyes move in between hers and she feels a surge of apprehension arise from that one look. She knows he is withholding information as not to alarm her.

"Is my location at risk?" She fingers the handle of her tea cup not sure she is ready to hear the answer to that.

"Not that we know off.." Elliot's voice trails off along with his eye contact. "But threats were made."

He pauses a beat. "Serious ones Liv."

She tries to remain neutral but it's a mixture of skepticism and denial that takes over.

"Threats have been made before El-"

"I know." He whispers, cutting her off. "This is different."

She waits a few beats, trying not to assume the worst.

"So are you here to bring me in?" She whispers. "Should I start packing?" She asked with raised eyebrows.

He considers her question for a few moments before he starts to rise up off the couch. She watches him move over to the glass doors and peer out into the darkness.

"How has it been?" He asks her, curiosity lining his tone as he looks back at her. "Living here."

She blinks back at him.

It's a fair question.

Has she spent the last three months banging her head against the wall in sheer boredom or if it had the reversed effect? Has the stillness softened her, mellowed her into finally allowing peace to enter her world?

She takes another sip of her tea.

"It's been fine…" she gives him slowly, blowing on the hot liquid. "What is it El?" She whispers slowly. "What are you not telling me?"

She hears him lightly jiggle the handle of the door to ensure it's locked before he turns back to her. He waits a few beats before he walks back to his seat on the couch. Only he doesn't sit, he stands there and watches her. The tension culminating in her chest with each passing moment before he finally breaks it.

"Cragen wants me to ah…" his words trail off once more and she moves towards the coffee table, placing her mug on the coaster, getting frustrated with his ambiguity.

"Cragen wants you to what?"

He blinks back at her.

"Stay with you."

Her eyebrows raise at that.

"Here." He confirms, as if that part was lost on her.

She feels a tightness in her chest and a pang in her heart.

"Ah, yeah I got that," she responds, her voice slightly horse. "Why?"

She hadn't meant to sound so blunt but this was coming from left field. A few beats pass between them before his eyes drop downward and suddenly she can feel a nervousness take ahold of his stance.

He's having trouble retaining eye contact with her.

"Elliot. Just say it."

"Just until it all dies down… just to be safe." He looks up at her.

She sits back on the couch with a sigh.

Cragen could have sent a bodyguard. He could have sent a protective detail. He could have provided a thousand different solutions to said predicament but sending her partner of 12 years into her one bedroom cabin was not the solution she had been expecting.

 _Just until it all dies down._ He says.

 _Just to be safe._

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: EO playing house is my jam._

* * *

She rinses out Elliot's coffee mug before she sets it on the drainer next to hers and just stares at them, both upturned and drying.

She's still not sure she has fully comprehended that he is here with her, that this isn't just a dream she is going to wake up from, let alone the trajectory of his stay.

In fact, she thinks she may still be in shock.

 _Just until it dies down._

What does that mean? Days? Weeks? Months?

Will the pullout sofa become his bedroom? Will he stay until her stint is over? Will he help her pack up and they'll convoy back to the city together?

It's that moment that she wonders how he even got here.

"Where did you park?" She asks from behind the kitchen island counter top, her eyes only lifting when he doesn't respond. He doesn't look up from his phone and she notices he barely has since he arrived. He has either been typing away or meticulously checking the entry points of her cabin.

"In town," he finally responds, as if there were a thirty second delay between them. "I didn't want any trace of me coming here."

She dries her hands with a tea towel, her mind calculating how long it would have taken on foot, knowing it must have been close to two hours in the dark.

"Did you find it okay?" She asks curiously.

His eyes lift up from his phone then and he gives her a look.

"It was fine until the signal dropped out. I lost it near the end of that lake, two thirds the way in from town. But I managed."

She folds her arms in front of her, a small smile tugging on her lips at the concept of Elliot wandering aimlessly through the wilderness in complete darkness.

He must be exhausted.

When his eyes drop back down to his phone her attention moves towards the small backpack in the corner near the door, thankful that it looks light at least.

There can't be more than 1-2 days worth of clothes in there.

"That all your stuff?" She motions towards the pack.

He looks over to where she is indicating before he clears his throat.

"No, the rest is in the car," he responds. "I was hoping you could drive me into town later today so I can pick up the rest."

She pushes her hip off the counter and starts to move around towards him, confusion and irritation building that all of this has been sprung on her so suddenly with no choice in the matter, let alone the fact that he seems to have a far more detailed comprehension of what is going on than she does. He's probably had weeks to mentally prepare for this, she's had just mere hours.

She looks down at him still typing on that damn phone.

"You want tell me what's so important on there?"

He looks up at her then, slightly caught off guard.

She hadn't meant for it to sound so blunt but she couldn't escape the feeling that he was being purposefully evasive with her.

He gives her a reassuring look. "Just work stuff Liv," he answers, holding her eye contact hoping for sympathy. "You forgotten what it's like already?"

A few beats pass.

She hasn't forgotten.

In fact she hasn't stopped thinking about it since she left.

She still wakes in the middle of the night expecting her phone to be blaring at her for attention.

And if she's honest, she misses it.

She considers asking him about his current caseload, about the one that seems to be demanding the bulk of his attention right now but something stills her in place and suddenly she's not so sure she is ready to break that spell just yet.

"Why don't we head in now?" She suggests to his bowed head, mostly thankful it will give them a task to focus on and not the unyielding concept of spending infinite time together. "We can grab some breakfast while we're in town, there's barely anything to eat here anyway."

He looks up at her once more, a wave of amusement playing across his face as he tries to hide a smile.

"What?" She says defensively.

He starts to stand, shoving his phone into his back pocket.

"Good to see nothings changed Liv," he smiles as he makes his way towards the door.

 **TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Short and sweet because I'm sleepy. Thanks again for the words._

* * *

Her hair looks lighter.

Longer.

Sunkissed..

He wonders how much of it is a result of undercover highlights and how much has been the sun.

She is sporting a light blue t-shirt and jeans and she looks well rested, healthy, content. Her stance has considerably softened since the last time he had seen her and even the way she holds herself has changed.

He watches her light hair tussle back and forth in the open window, the vast picturesque backdrop making her look breathtakingly beautiful.

She's like a different person with the same essence out here.

"So what exactly are we picking up?" Olivia's the first to break the silence, shifting beneath his gaze. "You bring your own mattress?" She quips with a slight tone.

A few solid beats pass and he doesn't answer her, just smirks beneath his sunglasses.

"A tent maybe?" She arches an eyebrow.

He turns, giving her a reassuring look, realizing she's been hung up on their sleeping arrangements since he arrived.

"I know there's only one bedroom Liv."

"Right." She responds with a look. "So what exactly is the plan then?" Her eyebrows still raised. "There's a hammock in the shed, should we hoist that up outside?"

He nearly laughs at that but instead he simply shakes his head with a smile.

"The couch is a pull out."

She looks over at him then, surprise lining her features that he knows that.

"Right and if it wasn't? Did you even have a plan? Or did Cragen just send you out here to figure it out as you go?"

His eyes hold hers, something ticking over in his mind, realising that his presence is seemingly more of an inconvenience than he'd expected.

"I'm sorry Liv." He gives her. "I would offer to stay in a motel in town, but that would kind of beat the purpose."

She looks away from him then, setting her focus on the vast expanse of land instead.

"Uh huh," she mutters and they drive in silence.

He knows her mind is still brimming with unanswered questions but he doesn't answer them.

He doesn't explain the fall out he had with his wife or that he's been unbearable to live with since Olivia had disappeared. He doesn't explain the tension between him and Fin now and how resentful he is that he didn't have her back the night Thompson had stabbed her. He doesn't explain his reoccurring nightmares he's been having of that knife slicing through her back and that some nights he can't sleep at all. And he certainty doesn't explain the fact that he jumped at the opportunity – _no wait_ – pushed Cragen for this exact outcome because he didn't trust anyone else to have her back.

He doesn't tell her any of that.

He simply stares ahead, trying to reconcile how her absence had near about broken him while his had seemingly lifted her.

"It's good to see you Liv," he tells her quietly, hoping that with some time out here - away from it all, maybe he'll be able to change that.

 **TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Happy Birthday Jessica! This update only exists because you were born today lol so yay for that!_

 _I hope you have an amazing day and thank you to everyone for their kind words._

 _So glad you're liking this story._

* * *

He's staring at her again.

It's the same intensity from the car only this time his attention isn't in her peripheral and it's not masked behind his sunglasses.

It's head on.

She lowers the diner menu, dodging his prolonged stare to flag down a waitress. She catches a woman's eye a few tables down with a hand motion, not sure she knows what she wants yet, just needing a distraction.

The waitress slowly makes her way down the row of booths until she stops at the head of theirs.

"What can I get you?" She says with a lacklustre smile, her eyes moving between both parties waiting for one of them to start.

The place is crowded for a Tuesday and the air is heavy with the smell of grease.

"I'll get the omelette, a side of hash browns, whole wheat toast, bacon and a coffee please." Olivia rattles off.

Elliot does a double take before he lowers his menu too.

"I'll have the same, with a side of sausage."

"Coming right up." The waitress scoops up the laminated menus and moves away.

A few beats pass as they both look around the diner.

Olivia runs her hands up and down her jeans, not sure if it's the crowded diner, the animated tourists or the fact that her partner is sitting opposite her after a prolonged hiatus but she's suddenly feeling somewhat unsettled. She ends up staring out the window to her left, pretending to be distracted by an elderly couple crossing the street.

"Good to see you've got your appetite back." He comments to the side of her face and when her eyes return to his she can see he is surprised at her order.

"I don't come into town that often." She gives him an eyebrow raise. "I figure I might as well make the most of it when I do."

"Really? I assumed you'd be in here quite a bit." He stretches in his seat. "I can't really picture you spending much time in that cabin… how are you not going stir crazy in there?"

"At first it was difficult." She agrees quietly, tracing the watermark beneath her glass. "But like anything, you get used to it." She breathes out. "Besides if I come in here too regularly people start asking questions, they try to get to know you." She tilts her head. "Kind of beats the purpose."

His eyes move between hers and she can feel him analysing her like she's a puzzle he can't solve. He's always been an observant person, taking in more than people are willing to give but this feels different. She wonders what he is seeing.

"I gotta be honest," he begins and her stomach instinctively tightens. "I half expected to find you tearing your hair out here.. but you look.." His words trail off.

She waits for his compliment to land, her eyes lining up with his when he says it.

"This suits you." He gives her quietly before he motions out the window with a nod. "Out here."

She lets her fingers smooth lazily over the weeping water glass. "It's a slower pace out here that's for sure." She agrees.

But that's where their words end and she's not sure what else to offer him. She can feel them both intentionally avoiding eye contact now and it hits her in that moment. This feeling of separation, their unfamiliar detachment is completely mirroring Oregon.

She could barely string two words together then and she can barely do so now.

She lets her gaze wander around the diner once more and when it returns to his he is watching her intently, his water glass now hovering halfway towards his mouth.

A few beats pass as she taps her fingers awkwardly against the laminate.

"What?" Her sudden demeanour shifts to the defence as the force of his stare just about makes his eyes water.

"Nothing." He gives his head a slight shake, a silent apology evident as he lowers his glass. "I just .." He clears his throat. "I just wasn't expecting you to look so.." his words trail off and her chest pounds at what he is going to say.

"Happy."

Her eyebrows raise in that moment, somewhat taken aback by his comment, trying to figure out what to do with his complimentary, but misguided assumption.

"Looks can be deceiving El," she whispers, giving him a deflated smile. "That much I'm sure you know."

* * *

She takes a bite of her toast, thankful for both the sustenance and the distraction.

The air between them has settled somewhat since the food has arrived, her chest no longer pulsing beneath the heat of his focus.

They sit in silence, quietly eating their meals, the clinking sounds of cutlery on porcelain the only exchanges between them.

A few beats pass before she can sense he's going to speak again.

"So you're not then?" He asks quietly between a mouthful and her eyes slowly lift up to his.

"Not what?"

"Happy?" He whispers.

She's taken aback by his direct question, realizing he had been marinating on it for a good while now, potentially debating whether or not to even ask it. She takes another bite of her omelette as away of avoiding answering him, using the excuse of a full mouth to prolong the silence.

A few beats pass before she finally swallows.

"What's with all the questions?" She does her best to deflect the attention off her. "Besides this is temporary anyway," she explains motioning around the diner with her fork, indicating the town. "Would it matter if I was?"

"It doesn't have to be." He whispers. "Temporary."

She takes a sip of her coffee and considers his question carefully, her eyes running over the fake red leather of the booth back behind him, fixating on the small rips of busted pleather before she answers.

"It's beautiful out here," she tells him honestly. "But you and I both know I wouldn't be here if I had the choice El." She breathes out. "At some point reality is always going to be waiting for me. This out here.. isn't real."

She watches Elliot push food around his plate, seemingly deciding not to respond to that just yet and she stills, watching him pile his fork up with food that he doesn't seem to be eating, her mind churning at the fact he had just come at her with such a personal question.

Something shifts within her then and she tosses the ball carelessly back to him without too much thought.

"Are you happy El?"

She hears his cutlery still against the plate before he looks up at her suddenly.

She can tell she's caught him off guard with the redirection and she suddenly not sure how they got here. They'd barely spent a couple of hours together and they're already asking each other if they're content in life. His gaze locks with hers in the way it does when there's important information to be exchanged and suddenly she's not sure she wants to hear the answer.

Her first thought was Thompson.

The unspoken question mark that seems to be hanging between them as the hours draw on.

But the second is his family.

His kids.

 _His wife._

 _Are you happy El?_

The waitress chooses that moment to return and starts filling up their cups without asking. They'd barely made a dent in their breakfast before she was whipping out her pad.

"Separate cheques or together?" She says bluntly.

Olivia doesn't take her eyes off Elliot.

"Separate-"

"-Together." Elliot cuts her off.

Olivia stills.

There is something about that moment, the look he is giving her, that sentiment of those words that catches her completely off guard.

 _Together._

Not separate.

The woman drops the piece of paper between them and Olivia watches him slide it towards his side before he casually returns to his meal.

She lifts her refreshed cup of coffee to her lips, hot steam tingling her nose, her mind reeling as she watches his bowed head.

She has no idea what to expect with her partner out here in the middle of nowhere but all she can think is that at some point reality is always going to be waiting for them.

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: I know you want answers, but you'll have to be patient. :)_

### Fluffy cloud warning because it's holiday time ###

* * *

Elliot walks a couple of paces behind her on the sidewalk.

His weapon is secured in the back of his jeans beneath his jacket, the warm sun causing a sheen of sweat to line his brow.

She looks over her shoulder, indicating that they need to cross at the crosswalk when she notices the distance he is keeping.

He stops a few paces behind her when she says it.

"You wanna cut this bodyguard crap out." She presses the button for the cross walk. "We're partners Elliot."

"I'm the armed one Liv." He lowers his voice so they aren't overheard.

"Yeah bout that." She shields her face from the sun as she looks up at him. "Did you bring an extra in this car load of belongings of yours?" She waits a few beats. "If I'm supposedly in this much danger?"

His eyes regard hers, he can tell she is clearly pissed with their dynamic shift, coupled with the lack of information he has given her.

 _He'd be pissed too.._

"How about we discuss this when we're out of earshot?" He indicates their surroundings.

She takes in the deserted street.

"We left the entire town in that diner Elliot." She tilts her head. "Besides, you walking three feet behind me at all times is probably going to raise more alarm bells than anything else."

She's about to stab the button again when he steps closer to her, their shoulders brushing unexpectedly. He feels her still, her body reacting to his presence and he doesn't move away.

"Better?" He whispers.

His stomach spirals at just what the hell he thinks he is doing.

He had intended it to be a joke but there was something about connecting with her body that made his chest pound. He looks down at her, her expression unreadable beneath her shades but he can clearly see he's having an effect.

"Laura," he says quietly. "That's your name out here right?" He says it to break the tension he can clearly see masked upon her face. "If anyone asks?"

He's not sure if it's the mountain air, her baby blue t-shirt, her put upon stroppy mood or the way he's completely disarmed her with a forearm graze but he can't tear his eyes away from her.

"Right." She whispers, her gaze moving back to the few cars that are driving past, still not making motions to remove her forearm from his.

He can clearly sees she's unsettled by their proximity so he eases up just a little, taking a half step to the right, allowing a slither of warm air to invade the space between them.

"If anyone asks who I am-" he begins.

She uses her freedom to lean forward and stab the button again this time with more conviction.

"No one is going to ask who you are."

"Well if someone does, _"_ he tells her _._ "Say I'm your brother okay.. not your partner."

The sound of the crosswalk hammers and he steps forward expecting her to be right behind him but when he makes it to the other side he realizes she still hasn't moved.

He stops and looks at her quizzically from the other side until she finally starts to put one foot in front of the other.

She catches up to where he is standing and they continue down the opposite street.

"You look nothing like me Elliot." She finally gives him as if she had been holding onto the comment and he looks over at her.

She's clearly perturbed by his suggestion and he cracks a smile beneath his sunglasses, trying his best not to bite back.

"Then what am I to you Liv?" He asks curiously, a part of him feeling like he is actually asking her this question after all these years.

She doesn't take the bait and they just continue to walk down the empty street.

"Your high school boyfriend?" He offers to her silence, glancing over at her. "Your gay best friend? An estranged, irate husband in town for alimony?" He's trying to keep it light, to ease off any tension he may have caused from his proximity but she doesn't seem to be playing along.

"Why can't you just be my friend?" She looks up at him with a quiet stare.

It's an unexpected comment and an equally unexpected look that she is giving him.

He lets the sentiment sink in.

 _Friend._

He doesn't allow the disappointment to land instead he tilts his head in her direction, widening his grin when he says it.

"Because who is going to believe your male friend is sharing your one bedroom cabin?"

She does a double take at that and he finally sees her disarm beneath his gaze.

"The real question should be - who is even going to ask?" She gives him a smirk, equally bemused at the ridiculousness of their conversation. "No one has said a thing to me in three months. You saw the service we got in there El, not exactly friendly and it's not like I have any neighbours close by."

He lets his eyes sweep across her profile before they move back to the street and suddenly their steps are falling into unison, side by side, mirroring their days on the job.

They make it a block and a half before he breaks the silence again.

"Alright friend," he begins. "What exactly is there to do in town?"

She gives him a look before they turn down a street.

"There's a movie theatre on Main Street, a grocery store, a couple of tourist shops and there's a bowling alley back that way." She indicates behind them and he suddenly stops in his tracks.

"A bowling alley." He repeats.

She turns back to him and just stares at him.

"Yeah."

"We should go."

She looks around her before she shakes her head.

"Funny." She responds beneath her shades.

A few beats pass before he answers.

"Why not? All we have is time out here?"

"Because Elliot," she furrows her eyebrows like he's lost his damn mind. "This isn't a vacation and the last thing we need to be doing is gallivanting around town causing a scene. Besides, what happened to keeping a low profile?"

He considers her question, scratching his jaw when he says it.

"Well maybe your gay ex husband Ken loves to bowl."

The joke lands but it doesn't get the desired response, instead he sees a hue of seriousness start to overtake.

"You know.." she begins suddenly. "I'm starting to think Thompson never escaped, that you just came up here to play house with me because you were bored at work without your partner."

She stares at him for a few beats, her expression deadpan before her lips widen into a smile, clearly indicating that she's joking.

He doesn't know what to do with that except to mirror her smile.

She walks away from him then and he shakes his head.

"How about Ken grabs his stuff and we get the hell out of dodge." She calls out over her shoulder.

He watches her wander down the quiet street, the sunlight catching her highlights, his chest still wrestling with _friend_ , his mind reeling over their daunting days ahead, wishing in that moment that Thompson had never escaped.

That he was just here with her.

In a town with no name.

 _Playing house._

 **TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

_AN: Hope you're all having a glorious week!_

 _This is for J &L for the constant harassment._

 _And a shoutout to Aly for obvious reasons._

* * *

He's perched on her kitchen stool twisting the ends off a snap pea.

Her head is bowed as she cuts up vegetables, soft sounds of the knife hitting the cutting board filling his ears as distant melodic lyrics flow through the early 90's stereo system.

 _"I'm back to the velvet underground, back to the floor that I love."_

In another lifetime this could be a date, a relationship, an evening alone with a beautiful woman.

But whatever this was right now – it feels very different.

He looks up at her a few times realising that there is an island counter top between them but it might as well be a football field. They've barely spoken two words since they returned from town and he can see things have shifted for her.

All that gazing, touching, joking around in town all seemingly causing her to clam up, harden - to shut down and he can tell having him in the intimate confines of her home is the cause. It was evident in the way she clutched the steering wheel on their drive back, her fingers flexing uneasily as reality started to dawn on her.

 _"Her face says freedom, with a little fear."_

And he can sense it now in her stance, something is bothering her and it seems the only thing he can pin it on is his presence.

"I'm sorry Liv," he whispers, realising the carefree woman from that morning had all but dissipated.

She looks up at him, not at all surprised by his apology but still feigning confusion.

"For what?" She asks slowly, taking a small sip of her wine.

The wine he knows she pulled out because she was uncomfortable.

 _"She was just a wish and her memory is all that is left for you now."_

He waits a few beats as poignant fragments of Fleetwood Mac continue to swirl around them.

"For being here," he says simply, his attention moving down to the snap pea in his fingers before he gently tears off the end. "I know this isn't ideal.. this - me, being here.. any of it really. I'm sorry to have put you in this position."

He looks up at her once more and she's staring at him with a look he can't read.

 _"I have no fear, I have only love."_

"It's just…" she stumbles on her words, her eyes moving down to the counter as if the answer she was searching for was inscribed on it. "It is what it is El. I mean you've got just as much say in this as I do right?" She rubs her temple with the heel of her hand as not to get food on her face. "I just think it's.. strange for Cragen to suggest that this is some sort of solution. I mean do we even know how long...we're…you're.." her words trail off and he looks up at her.

"Trying to get rid of me already Liv?" He gives her a weak smile.

"No.. " she shakes her head, her expression jumbled as she tries to backtrack. "I'm just struggling to understand it." She explains. "I need facts okay.. about Thompson, Cragen – the plan, the story. I need to know what we're up against so I can make sense of it, because right now it's not making any ..and I can't just sit here cutting up vegetables, talking about bowling and ex husbands like nothing is wrong."

"Okay," he responds quietly, not realising the extent of her frustration on the matter. "What do you want to know?"

"Thompson, the plan.. who is involved here? Is he operating alone? Are we just sitting ducks? Do you even have an escape plan?" She rattles off. "And I mean are you and Kathy even…"

He looks up at her then and she stops mid sentence, her wine meeting the counter with a light clink as she realises they've moved into touchy territory.

She must be reading something in his expression because it appears something has dawned on her.

He tears the end of a pea off in waiting.

"Does she even know that you're here?" She waits a few beats. "Because if she does El, I mean it's strange right .. you staying here?" She gives him a look. "It's weird."

He drops the pea in his hand onto the plate and stares at her.

"Yeah Liv, it's weird."

She looks surprised that he's agreeing with her but not offering anything more.

"So she's just okay with you staying here.. away from the kids.. away from her.."

He scrubs a hand over his face, a little taken aback that it's his home life she's focusing on, not Thompson.

His chest starts to rise and fall a little faster, feeling that somehow admitting this to her is going to make him look like a failure in her eyes.

"We're legally separated Liv." He explains to the plate instead of her face.

He hears the knife still against the chopping board.

It feels like minutes before she speaks.

"Okay…" she whispers finally. "When did..when-"

"After Thompson." He looks up at her then and her eyes fill with surprise.

"Look," he shakes his head dismissively. "It doesn't matter Liv, it all started well before that, you know that as well as I do." He pauses a few beats to gauge her reaction. "But when Thompson hit, I guess it all just came crashing down.. she couldn't do it anymore.. I couldn't do it.." He gives her a look that's borderline apologetic. "And after you left, I guess I was a nightmare to live with... to work with.. all of it."

She is deathly silent.

Her knife stilling against the board as she watches him.

He knows exactly how it sounds.

He's basically admitting that nearly losing her had ruptured his relationship with his wife for good, not to mention effected his work life.

 _"Lightening strikes, maybe once, maybe twice.. "_

His eyes move slowly in between hers, holding her eye contact until he says it.

"I guess in some way knowing you were out here ..was worse than _not knowing_ about Oregon."

She lets out a breath, her expression unrecognisable.

He can tell he has really thrown her.

"Look," he clears his throat, trying to shake out the tension. "My personal life is… you don't need to worry about that Liv." He starts to sift through the pile of peas attempting to locate the unclipped one he dropped. "My number one priority right now is our safety out here okay, so lets just focus on that."

A few moments pass as she looks down at her partially cut vegetables.

 _"Maybe once, maybe twice."_

He watches her knife start to cut into the full capsicum she's holding, the blade piercing through the bright green flesh causing a cheek to fall to the side.

She just looks at it rocking until it stills.

"So what about Thompson then?" She says quietly.

But he knows, he can't possibly throw the details of Thompson onto her too.

"Look.. I'll.. I'll tell you about him Liv," he gives her a look of assurance. "I promise, but can we just park it for tonight? It's been a long day, I haven't slept in 24 hours.." His words trail off.

She stares at him before she drops the knife with a clank.

"Fine," she mutters grasping a tin of tomato paste, seemingly done with the chopping for now. "Whatever you want."

He watches her struggle with the ring pull, her damp hands causing it to slip beneath her capture.

He stands up, moving around the counter to help her.

"Here I can-"

"I got it." She turns away from him but she must have pulled too violently because a whole gush of red liquid spills down the front of her blue shirt.

"Jesus." She lets out suddenly, slamming it down on the counter, speckles of sauce flicking up and splattering against her face, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

He watches her, taken aback by her outburst, slowly scooping the dish cloth off the counter before he hands it to her.

She takes it, looking away somewhat embarrassed, wiping the side of her face where it had splashed.

He considers making light of the situation but he can tell she's on edge, unsettled, completely thrown by all of this so he just allows her to navigate the redundant stain on her shirt.

She tosses the cloth down on the counter suddenly.

"See this is why I don't cook," she rasps.

He resists the urge to make a joke to ease the tension but something tells him to keep it contained.

"Liv," he whispers. "How bout I take over?" He picks the can up off the counter gently. "You go change.. shower if you like - I can finish up here."

He waits a few beats before he pulls the ring pull completely off the can, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

She turns around and she faces him suddenly.

"There isn't going to be enough sauce for the spaghetti." She mutters. "I'm wearing it."

He scratches his cheek, unable to help the smile tugging on his lips this time, the humour of the situation too much to conceal.

"Liv," He says honestly. "I could just as easily have cereal tonight. I don't care."

She stares at him for a few beats before she motions towards his cheek.

"You've.. you've got some too." She hands him the soiled towel and he wipes the side of his face she's indicating until it's clean.

They both just look at each other.

 _"And it all comes down to you.. you know that it does..."_

The timely lyrics make his chest pulse with nerves and they both feel something in that moment that is undeniable.

She steps backwards suddenly, her hip bumping the counter before she corrects her stance.

"Okay I'm.. I'm gonna shower then," she explains quietly, barely meeting his eyes.

He nods, watching as she turns towards the bedroom, the lyrics trickling through his ears solidifying everything he already knows.

 _It all comes down to her._

 **TBC**

* * *

 _AN: Song Credit: Gypsy, Fleetwood Mac._


	8. Chapter 8

_AN: Happy Birthday eorocks! This one's for you (posting early as I know you'll be busy on the big day). Hope it's a great one. Xx_

 _Thank you everyone else for your kind words - the next chapter will shed more light as to what's going on! :)_

* * *

A burnt orange hue settles around them as she slowly twists her fork into the bowl of spaghetti.

Elliot had finished off the majority of dinner prep while she was showering and when she had reemerged she was surprised to find the bolognaise simmering away on the stove.

She takes a full bite of her pasta, waiting a few beats until she swallows her mouthful.

"How is it?" He asks her from across the table.

"Good," she says quietly, not wanting to gush but also wanting to show her appreciation.

He takes another bite. "I used some extra tomatoes to fill out the sauce."

She looks up at him then, surprised he'd mentioned it but by his inflection it appears he is just trying to make conversation. She studies his features while he's distracted with his dinner, her mind recalling their earlier conversation, finally aware of what his hard, blue gaze had been concealing.

 _Kathy. Oregon. Thompson._

She cannot believe that he is here, sitting across from her right now.

Her partner.

Her newly _single_ partner.

In her one bedroom cabin.

He looks up at her then and their eyes lock intently as if she had said that last part out loud. He is staring at her quizzically and her heart starts to thrum in her chest. Her mind recalling the way he'd asked her to set the table earlier like it was nothing, like they had done this a thousand times over.

She wonders how many sunsets and sunrises they will share together.

"Everything okay?"

He can clearly see that it isn't but she doesn't know how to do this with him.

Twelve years by his side and she can't even make simple conversation.

They're good with tasks she thinks - with _work_ , with c _aseloads_ , with driving into town to pick up his stuff, but the moment there is silence, _only them_ _-_ together in a small space with no distractions, she clams up.

"Liv?" He presses.

"Yeah I," she looks down at her plate searching for the right excuse. "I'm just tired." She says absently, thinking back to the moment when his hard body had collided with hers in the middle of the night, throwing her completely off centre. "It's been a long day."

He takes a sip of his water, watching her curiously as waves of silence envelope them.

"I can wash up," he tells her finally, his eyes lifting towards the bedroom. "You can turn in when you're ready."

She contemplates the kindness he is displaying - cooking her dinner, offering to wash up, suggesting she get some sleep when she knows full well if anyone needed sleep it would be him post his all night hike. Her eyes fall down to the drink he is holding, suddenly curious as to why he opted for water over wine. To stay alert she imagines.. on guard.

It hits her then, all of this kindness and over compensating is because of Thompson.

He knows a lot more than he is giving off.

His kindness is an apology.

* * *

She wakes up with a start.

She doesn't know if it's a sound that woke her or just a feeling but her heart is racing in her chest. She blinks against the darkness before she twists onto her side, taking the sheet with her. She realizes she's sleeping in a tank top and underwear after having kicked off her pajama bottoms in the night.

The night air is warmer than usual and she can feel the beads of sweat lining her hairline.

Her heart is racing and she wonders if she had a bad dream.

It wouldn't be the first.

She kicks off the blankets and moves out of the bed feeling unsteady on her feet at first. She hunts around for her pajama bottoms, stripping down the bed sheet to find them twisted up beneath the blankets. She pulls them out and slips them on before slowly padding to the door.

She hesitates, pausing first to ascertain if she hears movement from the living room before she opens the wooden door. A gentle creek sounds through the cabin before she holds it still, not wanting to wake him but in desperate need of a glass of water.

She steps through the threshold making her way to the kitchen when she spies him tucked between two pillows, face down and splayed out across the sofa bed. She allows her eyes to coast along the planes of his back muscles until they reach his boxer clad backside, the near full moon causing a sheen of light to spill through the glass doors illuminating his full expanse. She knows she shouldn't stare but she also knows this moment is incredibly rare, she's caught glimpses of him in the cribs before but nothing quite like this. The sight of his muscular form prompts memories of his hard body as they collided last night - he had fallen into her like a ton of bricks and she had felt every physical plane of his body. She blinks a couple more times, trying to shake off the heat that's entering her chest.

These thoughts are not going to help her sleep.

Just as she's about to move further towards the kitchen she catches a small light that illuminates from the side table and her eyes move towards it.

His phone.

The lights continue to dance in front of her, messages streaming in like he'd just entered a wifi zone, one after another and one name pounds irrationally through her chest in that moment.

 _Thompson._

She takes a few steps towards the phone, her eyes lifting up to his sleeping form to check he is still out before she glances downward at the most recent messages on the lock screen.

 **Fin**

 _Thompson's most recent whereabouts www googlemaps/…_

 **Cragen**

 _I'll check in again tomorrow._

 **Kathy**

 _The kids say hi._

She sees the words fade out from each message, displaying only a few characters leaving the rest to her imagination. He had spent so much time on his phone today texting back and forth she can only imagine the amount of information it would contain.

She slowly fingers the device, a moral debate flooding through her mind as to whether or not to do it. She carefully unhooks it from the charger before she takes the few steps towards her bedroom.

She makes it to the threshold, a stray floorboard creaking beneath her feet causing her to still but when she looks up it hadn't been enough to make him stir. She leaves her bedroom door open, knowing she'll have to return the phone once she's done and takes a seat on the end of her bed. She attempts to swipe the phone open but it's asking her for a passcode or a fingerprint.

She tries Elliot's birthday.

 _Nothing._

She tries Eli's birthday.

 _Nothing._

She tries a whole series of random combinations and not so random ones 1234, 1111, until she finally types in her own birthday.

0207

The numbers unlock the phone suddenly and the home screen appears.

Her eyebrows raise at that but she doesn't linger too long, she quickly opens up the messenger app to see a series of messages from Fin.

She scrolls to the top.

 _Here's the list of Thompson's men with a possible link to Liv:_

 _Martin Taylor_

 _Tony Franzman_

 _Eric Leaderville_

 _We think he's working in conjunction with-_

"Are you kidding me?"

Her head snaps up and she sees his semi naked form standing in her open doorway, his sleepy, groggy voice full of disbelief. She moves off the bed, lowering the phone to her side about to troubleshoot the situation but the lack of patience on his face is evident.

She can see she doesn't have long because he's already stepping towards her and is reaching for the phone. She doesn't think, she just moves backwards, rounding the bed and he follows her step for step, her adrenaline spiking as he swoops forward to grab it but she moves it just in time and he swipes air.

He looks at her with disbelief that she isn't giving it over.

"Seriously?" he says through gritted teeth.

She doesn't know what comes over her but she continues the refusal stepping back with his motions, this time misjudging the distance, her backside colliding with the bedside table. The contents rattle from the motion and they lock eyes, her heartbeat hammering in her chest. She assumes he will come to his senses at that point and back off but he does the opposite, lunging forward unexpectedly, contents scattering to the ground as he presses her further into the table in the pursuit of his phone.

"The hell Elliot-" She rasps as she clutches the side of the table, steadying herself from falling into it further. She wasn't expecting this – his hard bare body up against hers.

She tries to balance herself as he continues to reach behind her back, his nose knocking her cheek in the process and she thinks she must be dreaming.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" She rasps in the small space between them but he isn't speaking, he isn't saying a damn word he is just continuing this unrelenting tug of war with her. She knows she should give it up but something is stopping her, maybe it's the messages he doesn't want her to read or maybe it's the lengths he will go to stop her but as his hard body presses further into hers she closes her eyes - a mass of endorphins flooding through her chest. He isn't rough with her but he isn't gentle either and as her eyes slip open and meet with his something flickers within them and she's not so sure this is about the phone anymore.

She lets go of the device suddenly, the phone falling behind the table wedging between wood and brick where neither of them can access it. Their breaths intermingle, his body still caging hers as his exhales expel against her face. He looks her dead in the eyes as if he's trying to ascertain if she'd done that on purpose. She isn't holding the phone anymore so he's got no excuse to be this close to her and she watches that realisation flit across his face. He slowly backs off her and she moves out of his space immediately, her mind no longer on the phone, her nerve endings on fire.

 _What the hell just happened?_

She tries to shake off the excess energy and when she turns around he is standing there staring at her.

The air stills around them like a tangible mass, both of them unwilling to speak, to mention it, to call it what it is. She looks around the room as if she is waiting for him to start – to say something, _anything_ , a few beats pass as he just eyes her.

She knows then, she is going to have to be the one to break the silence.

"There must be something pretty damning on that phone to grab me like that."

She has gone straight to anger because she doesn't trust anything else.

He waits a few beats until he turns away from her, pulling the bedside table away from the wall, grasping his phone before he moves back up to face her. He stares at her long and hard, her face practically flaming under his gaze, her mind reeling at just what he will say to her.

"You must be pretty paranoid to go through my stuff while I'm sleeping Olivia."

He gives it right back to her. He's talking about the phone but she can't seem to focus on anything but his inflamed flesh and his very hard, very visible body.

He starts to step past her but she makes the mistake of reaching out and grasping his forearm, stopping him in his tracks.

She stills him in place, a small fire in her eyes.

"I'm not an idiot Elliot," she whispers, a slither of iron entering her tone. "Your whole façade tonight with dinner, the dishes. You can placate me all you want but it's not going to stop me from getting answers," she warns.

He looks down at the hold she has on him.

"Touch my stuff again Olivia-"

"Touch _me_ again Elliot and I'll.."

Her words taper off and he waits for her to continue but she doesn't.

She slips her hand off him at that point. She doesn't know why she went there, why she hadn't just let it go, but his close proximity had completely thrown her tonight, so much so that she doesn't know quite what to do with it.

"Are we gonna talk about it?" Her eyes motion to the side table, daring him to explain himself, her tone of voice desperate to get some type of accountability from him. "Or are we just going to pretend that didn't happen?" She whispers.

His eyes move between hers as if he is debating something in his mind.

"I'm going to go back to sleep," he treads carefully. "I suggest you do too."

She wants to retaliate, she wants to call him out on his bullshit but she also doesn't trust herself to keep a semi naked agitated Elliot Stabler confined in her bedroom.

"We can talk in the morning," he gives her as if it were some kind of constellation prize.

She shakes her head in disbelief and looks off to the side and when it's clear she isn't going to respond to that he slowly moves around her, his arm barely grazing the hairs on hers before he leaves her standing in the dark bedroom.

She listens to the door click gently closed behind him and she stands there wondering just how she is going to get any sleep tonight.

Or ever again.

 **TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

_AN: Oh dear me, yes it was a knife in her back (not a bullet) my bad, thanks Anne Bensler, I will have to correct this. I was thinking of her Chutes and Ladders injury._

 _Anyway, aside from that here is some more insanity!_

* * *

She wakes up to complete darkness.

She figures it was a miracle she had managed to sleep at all after the phone incident but it pains her to realize it's still not dawn. She blinks against the night, figuring she probably caught two hours more shut eye max. She assumes it's somewhere around the 3am mark but her phone isn't close enough to gauge actual time.

The air is still warm, her face is flushed but there's a hidden chill to the night.

She starts to roll backwards but she hits something hard.

It's seconds before she realizes it's a body.

 _Elliot Stabler's._

He's in her bed.

What the fuck?

Her back hits the wall of his chest and her heart starts to pound erratically, her mind swarming to comprehend it. The rise and fall of his chest tells her that he's unconscious but she doesn't move an inch for fear of waking him.

 _What the hell is he doing in here?_

His heavy arm moves as a result of her motion, draping across her waist until his large hand is cupping her ribcage, tugging her back into his body with a breathy exhale. His chest presses further into her back, his crotch curling intimately into her backside and nerves flood haphazardly through her body.

This is a dream.

It has to be.

She closes her eyes, opting not to speak but to wade through the silence instead. She tries to shift a little in his hold and realizes with shock that her pajama pants are off again and most likely twisted beneath the blankets once more. The damn elastic on the waistband is pitiful, she needs to replace them next time they're in town.

A few moments pass before she feels his hand move upward until he his holding her just below her breasts. She is braless in a threadbare white tank and the lace of her panties are meeting with his cotton boxers.

 _Jesus Christ._

This couldn't be more intimate.

She continues to focus on the rise and fall of his chest trying to ascertain just how to maneuver this. In all the years she's known him, he's never mentioned sleep walking, not to mention sleep spooning and potentially sleep groping..

"El," she whispers, her heart pounding in response.

When she hears nothing she starts to twist around in his arms so she's facing him, his heavy arm still trapping her against his body. Their faces align but his eyes are closed, the heat from his body is causing her mouth to run dry. She can feel the tickle of his boxer shorts rubbing against the top of her bare thighs and she swallows.

"El," she whispers again somewhat hesitantly, because waking him would mean he's going to get quite the shock when he realizes where he is and what he is doing.

"You gotta go back to your bed," she whispers through the darkness.

He mumbles something unintelligible and she's not sure if it's words or just gibberish. Then she feels his hand move up her back, not stopping until he presses against her shoulder blades drawing her flush up against his chest in an intimate embrace. She exhales into his neck and as a few beats pass he starts to stroke her shoulder blades as he holds her against him.

 _What the hell is happening?_

God she must be dreaming.

She has to be.

She presses her eyes closed allowing herself to indulge in the moment, dream or not his warm body pressed up against hers in an intimate hug is making her chest thrum. She cannot believe in the short space of time he has been here that this makes the third time his body has come in intimate proximity with hers. Despite the nerves pounding through her chest he feels warm, comforting, inviting almost and suddenly she's not so sure she wants him to leave.

"El?" She tries again, her throat still catching with trepidation when she says his name, panicked she will wake him up, just as much as she's panicked she won't.

"I can't." His whisper is gravel and she blinks against him.

No longer jargon.

Intelligible sounds.

 _He's awake?_

She blinks against his throat, her chest pounding at the thought that he is conscious, that he potentially has been this whole time.

"You can't what?" Her voice is practically a tremble as the question falls against his neck. A nervousness flows through her as his silence extends for what seems like an eternity until he finally speaks again.

"Tell her," he mumbles, a little less coherently this time.

She presses her eyes closed.

Jesus Christ, he _is_ asleep.

She starts to consider the possibility of slipping out of his touch entirely and taking his place on the sofa bed but the thought dissipates when his hand moves beneath the material of her tank top, following a similar path up her back until he reaches her shoulder blades, only this time it's skin on skin. Her nipples instinctively harden against his chest as her tank bunches just beneath her breasts, their warm bellies meeting.

She can't breathe, her chest is pounding.

"Elliot," she breathes out huskily. "What are you doing?"

She holds her breath, having no tangible idea if he is awake or asleep or just screwing with her but their intermingled body parts are now causing a pang of heat to pool in her lower abdomen.

"She can't know." He mumbles against the crown of her head and she blinks against his words.

He must be talking about Thompson and it's after a few breaths that she finally finds the strength to speak.

"She can't know what?" her voice cracks when she asks the question, anxious as to how he will answer but he doesn't respond, instead he just continues to breathe against her forehead, their chests rising and falling in unison.

A minute or so passes and her mind is screaming at her to just move so she starts to shift, clutching the ridge of his waist intent on parting their bodies when she realises his arm is trapping her.

"El, I need you to let me go." She whispers gently.

But her words don't take effect, in fact all they do is cause his hand to start back up in motion, stroking her bare shoulder blades a lot softer this time as his lips move down and knock her throat. A flood of goosebumps breakout across her flesh, her nipples now painfully erect against his chest. She can't help her bodies response to his anymore, it feels so good to be touched like this after so long and the heat building beneath his fingertips is causing her lower half to thrum in response.

It had been months.

 _Three long months._

She feels the upper muscle of his thigh twitch between her legs and it's a moan that emits from her throat.

"El-liott." Her voice is a plea now, desperately trying to cling to some sense of rationality.

She remembers their earlier conversation so she tries to get them back there.

"She can't know what?" She whispers.

Nothing.

No response.

In fact his breathing has slowed to a point where she can feel his body weight starting to sink further into hers as if he were falling into a deeper slumber, his hand no longer stroking her. The momentum of his weight causes her to fall back, her head meeting with the mattress, a sound leaving the back of her throat as he sinks into her body.

All the air in her lungs expel at the unexpected heaviness of her partner and she takes deep measured breaths at their new proximity. She tries not to panic as she notices their lower bodies are twisted more intimately in a pretzel like fashion.

She clutches his forearm intent on shaking him awake but she stills, her heart beat hammering at his sudden state of comatose. The silence extends between them and she can tell by his laboured breaths that he isn't waking up anytime soon. She tries to reach around to his hand, attempting to detach it from her back but it's crushed underneath her, still up her shirt. She scrubs a hand over her face, a small slice of panic starting to overtake that she can't move beneath him even if she wanted to and she's going to be trapped here now.

"El," she whispers her voice low. She arches her chest then, her breasts pressing against the forearm that's detaining her against the mattress. "Please.. you gotta.." She tries moving her leg but realizes quite quickly it's trapped against his crotch now. _Fuck_. She is still turned on, that hasn't lessened any but it's getting overturned by the fact that she's most likely going to be pinned beneath him until morning unless she wakes him up.

Another uncomfortable minute passes and the claustrophobia of the situation starts to move up into her chest. She can already feel the makings of pins and needles in her limbs. She decides she is going to have to rip the bandaid and shove him.. hard.. putting her whole body weight into it and maybe she'll gain enough momentum to tip him off her.

She presses her eyes closed, counting down.

1... 2... 3.

She rears upward, using her hip to shift his and he slips a little but barely budges, the momentum of his body falling back onto hers within seconds and she hits the mattress with a thump.

"Fuck," she rasps out loud.

That's when she feels his breath hitch, his body tense and he stills against her.

 _He's awake._

She freezes in place and when it's clear he's registered where he is he moves quickly onto his elbow, sliding his hand out of the back of her shirt.

"What the hell?" He says in a rush, moving off of her so he's no longer crushing her. "Liv?"

Her says her name as if he isn't sure it's her in bed with him.

They dislodge their thighs and she scoots backwards, grasping the comforter and pulling it up to her chest.

Their eyes meet through the darkness.

"What's going on?" He says, a flood of nervousness in his voice.

"You were on top of me," she whispers, still coming to grips with it herself.

"What?" He asks her in pure shock. "Why?"

"I don't know."

That's all she gives him.

She doesn't have any more words than that.

She knows he must be freaking the hell out right now but she isn't quite sure how else to put it.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." She whispers.

"Did I…"

"No." She answers quickly.

"How did I get in here?" His voice trembles slightly.

"I don't know."

She's far too nervous to do anything other than answer yes or no questions right now.

"God Liv, I'm so .. are you sure I didn't.."

"El I'm fine."

He waits a beat.

"Liv I was on top of you.."

She can only just make out his features in the dark when she says it.

"You were passed out."

The room stills and the silence extends between.

When she doesn't say anything he rolls onto his back and scrubs a hand over his face.

"Do you have a history of sleep walking El?"

"I can't believe this." He mumbles against his palm.

"Is that a yes?" She presses.

"Yes.."

Her heart starts to race at that point, realising this may not be a one time thing.

"What triggers it?" She asks curiously.

"New places." He answers in a breath.

She's still propped up on her elbow watching him come to grips with what just happened letting him sit with it before she finally speaks.

"Elliot.."

"Yeah."

"I think you should go back to bed."

 **TBC**

* * *

 _AN: Okay so still no Thompson answers BUT I felt it was very important to write this very tropey very cleched chapter detailing Elliot's non-disclosed and highly challenging (and convenient) sleep disorder as it's integral to the plot (of course) and bound to cause a problem or two while they coinhabit this cabin. Hopefully you agree. *Angel Emoji*_


	10. Chapter 10

_AN: I hope you all had a lovely Christmas._

* * *

She wakes up to a slither of sunlight casting across her eyes.

She blinks against the morning light before twisting around.

She takes in the empty space beside her, inspecting the area he'd occupied last night. She can still smell traces of his scent – his cologne, her body recalling the feel of his form pressed so firmly against hers that she was unable to move a muscle.

That was night one.

 _One_..

She isn't going to survive this.

She slips out of bed, dragging her jeans off the back of the chair and tugging them on. She draws her tank top that looks ready for the trash over her head and tosses it onto the bed, scooping up a white bra and a clean t-shirt from her draw.

It's warm out, probably too warm for jeans but she's not sure how comfortable she'd be in shorts now all things considered.

She slips on her top making her way to the ensuite bathroom and splashing a generous amount of water on her face, the cool water a welcome refresher as her mind wanders, contemplating the state of her partner this morning. It seems quiet out there so she assumes he's either still asleep, out for a run - or just lying there fretting over what happened last night.

She combs a hand through her bed hair and runs her fingers under her panda eyes and that's when she hears the knock on the door. She looks up at the bathroom mirror, irrationally expecting to see him standing behind her in the reflection but she realizes it's coming from the closed bedroom door.

She pats her face dry on her bath towel taking one last look in the mirror before she heads towards the door, drawing in a deep breath before she pulls it open.

"Hey," their eyes meet and he looks at her apologetically. "Sorry," he clears his throat. "I'm desperate for the-" He indicates the bathroom. "Can I?" He doesn't wait long for her to respond, moving forward to the ensuite at the same time that she motions for him to go ahead. "I heard you were up so I.." But she doesn't catch the rest of it as he is closing the door firmly before she starts to hear the stream of urine.

She presses her eyes closed shaking her head and moving out into the living room, she already feels like she needs space in this cabin – away from _him_ , away from _them_ , away from what she assumes will be more awkwardness now.

She looks around the empty kitchen and switches on the coffee maker, partly as a distraction, but mostly to caffeinate herself post her very uneven sleep last night. She hadn't given any thought to their shared bathroom and it seems he must have held his bladder all night, not wanting to disturb or scare her after what happened. Her mind reels at how on top of each other they are going to be here - _literally_ , and how ridiculous this whole situation is.

She has to talk to Cragen.

When he reemerges from the bathroom minutes later she is already sipping her coffee. Their eyes connect briefly, both of them assessing each other in a calculated fashion as if trying to gauge the others state of mind. He perches himself on the bar stool in front of her and she casually slides the second cup of coffee towards him.

"Thanks," he gives her with an appreciative nod, blowing on the hot liquid but not taking a sip.

A few moments pass before he finally breaks the tension.

"Look Liv, I'm really sorry about last night," he offers quietly lowering his mug. "I can't believe I.."

Her eyes gloss over him, noticing he's thrown on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans himself, feeling an equal need to cover up after the events of last night she assumes.

"It's fine," she gives him, her eyes stopping to linger on his bare ring finger. "Really."

She takes a sip of her coffee but notices he makes no motion to drink his.

"Look I've been thinking.." He stops himself at that point and she watches the muscles in his jaw instinctively jump under her gaze.

She braces herself for the unexpected.

"I think maybe it is best if I _do_ stay in town."

Her eyebrows jump at the comment as she taps her short fingernails against the ceramic mug.

"Okay," she says slowly. "So you're just going to leave me out here to fend for myself?" The humor doesn't fall the way she had intended and her attempt to make things light is only met with extended silence.

She lets out a sigh. "Look El if you need the bathroom during the night, I can leave the door ajar-"

"You know I'm not talking about that," he cuts her off.

She studies him, he's obviously been gnawing on this decision all night and has clearly made up his mind, she just isn't sure it's the right move. She wants her space back yes, but until she has a clear idea of the Thompson threat she isn't sure she's comfortable having Elliot miles away, particularly if Cragen had sent him here for a reason.

"You said it only happens in new places," she says slowly. "The sleepwalking. How long does it usually last?"

His Adam's apple bobs up and down before he speaks.

"About a week.. the first house we moved into," his eyes hold hers. "It lasted 9 days."

She mulls on that piece of information, the concept of having him wandering into her unlock-able bedroom at all hours of the night for the next week or so making her feel quite unnerved.

"Right." She shakes her head in bemusement, unable to believe she didn't know this about him. "And this always happens in new places? Did you not think about this when Cragen suggested you come stay out here?"

He scratches his stubble awkwardly and he looks away. "What can I say Liv? I was a little preoccupied with-" He stops himself, his words jarring and she knows what he was about to say.

 _Thompson_.

"Well that aside Elliot, you've slept in the cribs on and off for years. I've never seen you-"

"I'm used to the cribs now." He cuts her off. "You should have seen me those first couple of weeks. It was the year before you started."

She steps towards the fridge suddenly deciding she needs another distraction. She pulls out the loaf of bread they bought yesterday and starts sifting through the cutlery draw for a bread knife. She can feel his eyes on her as she grabs a chopping board off the shelf and places the loaf of bread on top of it with a light thud.

"So does it always end with you climbing into bed with someone?"

The blunt question hangs between them and when her eyes flit up to his she half expects him to look away but he simply holds her gaze.

"No." He tells her firmly. "That.. was a first."

She swallows and when the intensity of his stare gets too much her eyes drop down to the task at hand and she begins to cut into the bread.

"Liv, you'd tell me if…" he pauses, his words trailing off.

A visible shiver wracking through her body in that moment, if there had been a chill in the air she could have blamed it on that but it was hotter than hell in here.

"If what?" She asks somewhat nervously, not having the courage to look him in the eye.

"Didn't feel safe around me?" he finishes off.

She silences the knife against the cutting board and looks up at him, their eyes meeting nervously.

A few beats pass before she answers.

"Yes."

"Yes what?" He swallows. "Yes you'd tell me or yes you feel safe?"

"Both."

She knows the heat in her cheeks and the look in her eyes is probably contradicting what she just said but at the crux of it, it's the truth.

"Olivia you woke up with a stranger in your bed."

"I woke up with _you_ in my bed," she corrects, setting the knife down on the counter. "And it's a damn sight better than waking up next to Thompson or a dead body."

"Okay.." he whispers, "and I had my hand up your shirt." He leaves the blunt statement between them and a thousand unsaid thoughts move through her mind.

She doesn't respond immediately and the silence blankets them, she can almost feel him mulling on his next words, his thoughts ping-ponging back and forth as if he's debating whether or not to actually vocalise them.

"Can you walk me through it Liv."

"Elliot this is.."

"I need to know what happened." His eyes skim over her face as if he's searching for any signs of a crack in her façade, something that she isn't telling him.

She looks down at the half sliced bread loaf, she can't believe he is making her do this, as a play-by-play is going to make this any less awkward.

"Fine," she presses her eyes closed. "I woke up, I rolled over, you were there close behind me in bed and you just started.. spooning me."

She opens her eyes once more and sees a flicker of surprise move through him but other than that he doesn't react, he just waits for her to continue.

"Then I," she pauses, chewing on the inside of her cheek, "I turned around so I was facing you, I tried to wake you up.. but you didn't. That's when you slid your hand up my.. up the back of my shirt and you just sort of started… rubbing me."

Dead silence.

"Rubbing my _back_." She confirms, before he assumes it was anywhere else. "Then you sort of fell into me, you just sort of passed out. I couldn't move so I started motioning at you to get off me." She waits a few beats. "That's when you woke up."

He looks at her blankly.

"El, nothing happened," she stresses.

"Right and what if something _does_ happen?"

Her eyes search his at that comment and she breathes out slowly.

"Why, are you saying something has happened?"

"No nothing has happened Liv." He whispers. "Nothing like that anyway.. but I just want you to feel safe, that's the whole point of me being here right.."

Her eyes fall down to the coffee mug he still hasn't sipped from, unsure how to respond.

She presses her lips together, knowing she's going to have to spell this out for him so he can let go of any of this guilt he seems intent on harbouring.

"Look I didn't feel unsafe Elliot," her gaze skims over everything in the room but him as she searches for the right word. "If anything I felt.."

She finally looks back at him, her heart instantly pounding in her chest at the thought of being this brutally honest but she knows she has to do this to put him at ease.

"You felt what Liv?"

 _More silence._

God she can't say it.

She can't say those words.

He looks at her in waiting.

"I think you were seeking comfort last night.. I mean you probably thought I was Kathy," she throws out flippantly. "But that's all it was, comforting. It felt comforting."

The room stills and he looks at her somewhat perplexed.

It's the best she can do without admitting she actually enjoyed it.

"I mean until you started crushing me that is," she says with a small smile, trying to make light of it once more.

His mouth parts, making motions to speak but he looks completely thrown by what she had just said.

She shakes her head as if she can erase what she just admitted to.

"Look El, you can drive into town and get a motel room if you want but just know that not only do I _feel_ safe around you, I _am_ safe around you." She assures him. "And once you give me the full run down on Thompson I have a feeling having you miles away probably isn't going to be my first preference. So how about we start there?" she suggests with a small smile. "Then we can discuss our accommodations."

His eyes move between hers as he considers what she's saying before he starts to slowly nod.

"Okay Liv," he whispers, picking up his mug and taking his first draw of lukewarm coffee.

"Let's have some breakfast and I'll explain everything."

 **TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

_AN: Happy New Year!_

* * *

He takes a bite of his toast.

Blackberry jam and butter intermingling in his stomach.

It's the kind of breakfast Kathy would serve at brunch with the girls but he knows this is just a formality. He knows they are merely lining their stomachs for this well overdue conversation. There is no time for bacon and eggs this morning and he wouldn't be able to stomach it once they get into the details anyway.

He takes another bite, looking up at her as she finishes off her first piece and watches as she takes a draw of her coffee.

 _It was comforting._

He's fixated on that phrase.

That was the word she used.

 _Comforting._

 _It was comforting to have his hand up her shirt.._

Her eyes flit up to his as if she had heard him say it out loud and they stare at each other for a solid moment. She slowly swipes her lower lip, removing the hint of jam and sucking it off her finger and his eyes move away.

 _Christ, how is he going to get through this?_

"Liv," he begins. "I know you walked me through what happened but I gotta ask-"

"Elliot," She cuts him off tiredly, leaning down on the counter, her elbows supporting her weight." I told you everything."

"Right." He pauses, tapping his fingers on the empty mug of coffee. "You told me everything that I did.. but did I say anything.. anything at all?"

Her eyes hold his and she looks somewhat taken aback by the question. She lets silence fill the space between them and it feels like they're at a stand off, neither of them wanting to give away too much.

"Why El.. what exactly do you think you said to me?"

"So I did say something?" His heart rate starts to quicken.

More silence and she doesn't appear to be continuing.

"Liv I've been told 'sleep talking' comes with the territory… sometimes whole conversations I don't even remember. So did I say anything to you?"

She looks uncomfortable, and there is that word again.

 _Comfortable._

"You did say one thing." She answers, pushing the second piece of toast around her plate absently.

He waits, nerves flowing through his body at the concept of what he said to her.

"What?" He whispers.

"You said," she breathes out. " _I can't tell her… she can't know_."

Her eyes hold his for a few beats as if trying to gauge what that would mean for him.

"So what can't I know Elliot?" She looks at him blankly. "You got another secret that you're harboring? Or is this about Thompson?"

He waits a few beats, considering her question until he rises reluctantly off his stool and starts to walk away from her. He can feel her eyes on his back as he sifts through his luggage and locates the file. When he returns to the kitchen her eyes fall down to the chockfull manila folder that he places beside him and she leans over her plate, intending to slide it towards her.

"Finish your food first." He instructs keeping a hand planted firmly on the top of it.

She just about rolls her eyes at him. "You're really intent on dragging this out aren't you."

"Trust me, when you see what's in this file, you're not going to have an appetite."

He motions down to her toast and after a few beats she reluctantly takes a bite, the crunch resounding through the kitchen as she begins to chew. She eyes him the whole time like he's the angry parent who won't let her leave the table until she's done and when she finishes the last mouthful and dusts her hands off she looks at him in waiting.

"Liv," he leans forward, his elbow protectively caging the file, his last ditch effort to bring her to her senses. "You know how sometimes we have those particular cases were the less information we give the victims the better. We find out additional details about the case or the perp that we know are only going to cause more damage, more concern, more fear so we don't disclose them?" He studies her. "Liv this is one of those situations. The bulk of information you don't need to know.. in fact you'd be better off if you didn't-"

"Elliot I'm not a victim.. or a civilian," she cuts him off again, annoyance lacing her tone. "I'm a detective and the more information I have, the better I'm going to feel about this. Trust me on this. I _need_ to know what I'm up against."

But she is wrong.

That he knows.

She doesn't _need_ to know any of it.

But he also knows she's stubborn as hell.

He looks down at the assortment of crumbs on her plate, wishing to God she still had another piece left so he could buy more time to think this over.

Yes she is stubborn, but then again so is he.

His eyes move slowly back up to hers before he suddenly changes gears.

"Put your shoes on Liv," he whispers. "We're going for a walk."

* * *

It's 20 minutes into their uphill bushwalk and a lot of complaints about the heat later that he finally finds a shady space beneath some blossoming trees.

He glances over at her as she comes to a stop, a sheen of sweat lining her forehead.

"I still don't get why we have to do this out here Elliot." She sounds out of breath.

"Liv, do you remember that day you interrogated Thatcher?"

She stills in front of him, clutching the half full water bottle as she watches him rest his back up against a tree.

"Yeah," she looks at him, not quite sure where he is going with it.

"And how often do you think about that day when we go into that specific room?"

She furrows her eyebrows at him, not sure she understands the relevance.

"Do you think about other cases when you go into that room.. or just that one?" He rephrases the question.

She shakes her head watching him take a seat on the ground beneath her.

"What does this have to do with anything?" She asks tiredly, dropping down herself and letting her water bottle fall to the side.

"It's a simple question Liv, who do you think about the most in that room?"

Her eyes dart away for a split second before they return to his, a clear indication that she's rattled by this question.

"Thatcher," she answers honestly, surrender imbedded in her tone.

"Right," he whispers as he pulls the file out of the small pack he had brought. "So if we had this conversation in your kitchen, or the living room - I don't want you thinking about Thompson every time you make a cup of coffee." He pauses. "That make sense?"

"So what are you saying El?" She cocks her head to the side. "This conversation going to end with me beating you to a pulp?" She doesn't smile when she says it but he knows she's making one last ditch attempt at humour.

Elliot ignores it, instead pulling out five glossy headshots and setting them out in front of her one by one.

"I don't want to take this back to the cabin Liv," he whispers seriously. "This conversation stays out here."

He watches her eyes fall down to the mug shots in front of her and her eyes trail over the variety of faces.

"So what am I looking at?" She asks, her tone instantly switching back to work mode. "Am I supposed to recognize these men?" She looks up at Elliot in question and when he is silent he watches her draw Thompson's photograph a little closer to her, blades of glass tickling the back of the photo as she drags it.

"Thompson, obviously.." she motions down at the photo, her voice tripping over his name when she says it.

"Yeah." Elliot waits her out, trying to gauge her current reaction before he continues. "And the four men we believe are connected to him."

She studies the faces like she's cramming for a test. "Connected how?"

"These are the four men we believe he has contracted to.." Elliot's words trail off.

He can't do this.

 _He can't possibly do this._

She looks up. "Elliot-"

"-Attack you."

Her face stills and she holds his eye contact but she is deathly quiet.

He realizes then that they may be sitting out in nature but they might as well be in a cold, dark interrogation room.

"They've each been given detailed instructions on how he wants the attacks carried out.." His words trail off.

"Individual, or group?" She whispers, her voice sounding small.

"Individual ...one by one, like a check list." He explains.

She blinks back at him.

Elliot looks away.

There is silence.

"Liv, you've been targeted before, but this is... very different. Thompson is heavily connected - inside and out of Rikers. Cragen doesn't want you anywhere near the station.. your home, any places you've visited, not until we have a better gauge of this situation. These four men are all currently on parole, untraceable, none have turned up to their meetings which gives us reason to believe they've either been bribed or blackmailed."

She stops him with a hand raised up. "Where are you getting all of this?" She looks confused.

He lets out a heavy breath. "A couple of days ago we caught one of them trying to break into your apartment - Michaels," he slides a photo of a darker skinned male in front of her eye line. "We had him on some priors, that coupled with his parole violation he took a deal, spilled on the plan. Liv the details are.. they're not pretty.."

"But one down, four to go?" She dismisses the severity, looking up at him. "Right?"

He blinks back at her then, realizing she's not quite getting it.

"Liv, Thompson's already replaced the fifth.. only this time we don't even have a name to trace. This isn't going to just go away.." His eyes move between hers. "This could be years-"

"Or," she pushes back, dismissing that thought entirely. "We find these sons of bitches, lock them up and I get my life back by the fall." She presses.

"You're not getting it," he whispers, almost annoyed. "It doesn't matter if Thompson is in or out of Rikers Olivia – or even dead or alive - he has connections, he has money, he is psychotic and he's clearly obsessed with you." Elliot presses. "Now I know you don't want to hear this but the sooner you come to terms with it-"

"I want details." She looks down at the folder.

He pauses. "Of what?"

"The attacks." She motions towards the paperwork. "I assume you've got notes on that - the whole run down sitting right there – _the plan_.."

He presses his eyes closed.

"Liv, that's not going to help-"

But she is too fast, sliding the manila folder towards her and grasping hastily at the photocopies on the top. He moves forward to swipe them back only he doesn't have the energy to fight her this time. She takes in the sketch of a woman's body, markings and lines pointing towards various body parts with instructions on how to carry out the attack before she flicks through multiple pages - four similar copies of the illustrated woman all with different instructions, different objects to be used.

 _Rape, bondage, sodomy, torture, death._

He watches the imagery display across her features before it all becomes too much and he is leaning forward, grasping the pages suddenly and tucking them back in the file as if that will make her feel any safer.

"I told you Liv, the less you know the better," he whispers.

"The less I know, the less prepared I am." She rasps back.

She is rising to her feet then and starting to pace in front of him, his chest pounding in response as to how best to handle her reaction.

He stands up quietly, using the tree behind him as leverage and she turns.

"So are we sitting ducks Elliot? Do these men know I'm out here? Is it just a matter of time?"

"No," he shakes his head. "There is no reason to believe they have any idea where you are. But if he's this dedicated, this connected.. this obsessed, Liv then maybe it is-"

"-just a matter of time?" she finishes off for him. "Yeah I'm getting that – so my career, my life, all of it is on hold indefinitely, that what you're telling me?" Her eyes look wild with panic.

"Well I think it's a damn sight better than the alternative." He mutters quietly.

He watches the gravity of that answer hit squarely in the chest and she shakes her head, distant pin pricks of tears in her eyes.

He thinks for a second she is going to walk away but something inside her shifts, her anger levels far from subsiding.

"So Cragen sent you here - _just you_ ," she steps forward encroaching on his space. "My sleep walking partner to protect me from five potential rapists?"

Elliot stares at her blankly, a little taken aback by her outburst and her proximity.

"Olivia we've got two undercover uni's stationed in town and another two a half mile up the road, in a nearby cabin. Two of them were in the diner with us yesterday, the other two followed us back from town on that drive. I've got them on speed dial Liv - there hasn't been one goddamn minute that you haven't been protected except for.."

A few beats pass as she stares at him.

 _Silence._

"Last night." He whispers.

He knows full well having him heavily unconscious, unable to be woken up meant there would be no way he could have contacted backup in an emergency, not to mention just about crushing her body in the process.

She shakes her head at the whole ordeal, brushing lose blades of grass off her pants as she squints against the sun.

"I wasn't in danger last night El," she says quietly. "But after this little run down I'm not sure I'm comfortable being out here in the middle of goddamn nowhere, so I'll see you back at the house," she steps around him. "Think I'm done with nature for the day," she mutters.

He turns then, picking up her water bottle and watching her descend down the trail they had just walked, wondering just how he is going to protect the woman he loves from the terrors at bay.

 **TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: This is for two ladies who are going through a rough time at the moment. I hope this helps. Love to you both. X_

 _And thank you to everyone else for your kind reviews! X_

* * *

He focuses on her ponytail.

 _Swish swoosh_ , back and forth as if waves of invisible currents were batting it purposefully side to side.

They're descending through the foliage, down the same path they had come - Olivia in front, warning off stray branches darting out at her from all directions. _Left. Right. Low. High._ He hadn't thought past divulging the case details out here and now having her sneaker clad and on edge in the middle of the wilderness wasn't the most comforting thought.

He wants to tell her to slow down, to take a breath – that she's going to trip on a stray rock but he knows how that will be received. Instead he just follows closely behind, his hands rejecting the same foliage she sends careening back at him.

 _Swipe, swipe, bat, bat._

He watches her form disappear around a bend, the distance between them suddenly lengthening when he catches sight of her again. Then it's an irrational feeling that hits, she's going to take off like she's a caged animal that's just escaped after years of captivity. He starts into a fast jog, and it's a few turns later when he gets closer, their sharp breaths overlapping as he comes up behind her, swish, swish, bat, bat, swipe, swipe – boom!

He cops a branch right in the nose causing him to drop back a few paces as he holds his nose checking it for blood. The unforgiving sun pierces through the tall trees above him, causing perspiration to seep down his exposed neck and arms.

He cannot lose her or Cragen will have his ass.

He zeroes in on her ponytail like it's a marker, watching as she weaves and ducks through the path ahead of him.

 _Swoosh swoosh, swish swish._

His eyes fall downward when he feels the track change, thick raised tree roots snaking across their path.

He is still repelling branches like it's a goddamn whack-a-mole when she stops suddenly at the apex of an incline. He doesn't have time to stop and rams into her form, his arms grasping her around the waist from behind, both of them nearly falling down the steep track. She calls out as he steadies their bodies just in time, dragging her a few steps back from the edge.

She is deathly silent.

It wasn't a cliff face but by the feel of their heart beats it might as well have been.

"I'm sorry.. " he whispers, his adrenaline spiking from the shock. "Please, just slow down." He says through jagged breaths realising they were both on the cusp of face planting down the rocky trail. "We don't need a visit to the ER today."

He still hasn't let go and can feel the sweat beneath her tank, beads of his own intermingling with hers as her lungs fill and expand beneath his palms. A flock of birds soar above their heads and for a brief moment he wishes they could both have that same freedom. She smells like wilderness, sunscreen and flora and in a moment where she'd be picturing all the ways in which she was in danger he is picturing what it would be like to press his lips up against the back of her flushed, perspiring neck.

"I can't do this." The whisper is so quiet he isn't even sure he had heard it.

He doesn't know what she is referring to.

 _The cabin._

 _The threat._

 _Him._

He swallows, attempting to remain calm. "The only thing that has changed is the information," he tells her through chapped lips. "Thompson isn't any closer. It's just your perception of the threat that's altered. You're as safe as you were 30 minutes ago Liv."

It's not a lie, but it feels like one.

He closes his eyes against the harsh sun, still not entirely sure how she is reacting to his words, to his presence, to his continued hold on her. _Silence_. No swiping, no swooshing, no batting, just distant cawing sounds from liberated birds long since dispersed.

"You good?" He asks quietly, knowing he needs to let her go.

He loosens his hands regardless of a response but that's when he catches it - the briefest swipe of her hand against the back of his, fleeting but purposeful. She's still not facing him but he senses words she has to say sifting around the air taunting them both.

Then it's seconds before she is moving out of his hold, grasping her stray water bottle from the bushes and making her descent down the track.

He follows her this time at a far slower pace.

* * *

He pulls back for the remainder of the walk, wanting to give her space.

He has ascertained she's no longer a flight risk but it's this new dynamic he is still now struggling with.

Him with a glock, her _without_.

Him with the knowledge, her _without_.

Him as the detective, her as the _civilian._.

This would be an entirely different story if the subject he was guarding wasn't his capable, trained partner but he doesn't know where to draw the line with her out here. Not to mention that he had nearly sent her careening down a rickety track just now.

As they come to the end of the thick foliage, he watches her move through the bushes and reach the house first.

She knows they need to check the surrounds before they enter but he watches her stubbornly move through the sliding glass doors regardless.

He shakes his head, ascending the steps to the cabin, quickening his pace as he makes his way into the house. Her bedroom door is wide open so he walks in without knocking, stopping suddenly when he sees a full view of her bronze flushed stomach, ample cleavage and tussled hair coming into view as she strips off her tank.

"Sorry," he apologises, not realising she'd be in a state of undress. "I ah.."

She tosses the tank onto a pile of clothes in the corner, seemingly unbothered as if they do this all the time, have casual shirtless conversations in sports bras and leggings.

"I'm going to do a perimeter sweep." He finishes off, keeping his eyes trained on her face only, biting his tongue from explaining that was the reason he had stormed in here.

"Okay," she responds. "I'm gonna shower." Her eyes motion towards the bathroom as if it's obvious he needs to leave so she can do so.

He nods then, turning slowly on his heels and gently closing the bedroom door between them.

* * *

He had checked all the internal rooms and he was half way through his perimeter search when he sees a form emerge from the sliding doors.

She is sporting jeans, a black t-shirt with a pair of sunglasses that mask her face.

He doesn't know what that was in her bedroom, whether she was purposefully trying to feign comfortability with him or if she was done trying to keep boundaries living in such close proximity.

He notices she is moving out of the house briskly, with something in her hands and his steps progress into a light run when he realises it's her wallet and keys.

He follows her path towards the car.

"Liv." He calls out. "Wait." He catches up to her. "What are you doing?"

She barely looks in his direction before she is pulling open the door to the car. "I need to go into town."

He moves forward, a hand coming out and slamming it just as firmly closed as it was opened.

He steps in front of the door, blocking her from opening it.

"Liv just talk to me." He whispers, thrown by her sudden 180 assuming they had been on the same page.

"I just need to grab something Elliot, it's not a big deal."

She tries to side step him then and he follows her step for step.

"Not a big deal?" He whispers, to her bowed head trying to get her to look at him. "Seriously?"

She raises her sunnies onto her head, the intensity of her direct eye contact suddenly throwing him.

"Yeah Elliot," she furrows her eyebrows at him. "Like you said, nothing's changed.. right?"

He is pissed as hell that she is using her words against him and lets out a loud sigh before he continues.

"You wanna give this a minute to land Liv? What could possibly be so important?"

She looks away briefly before her eyes return to his. "Pyjama pants."

Silence.

"I need some new ones." She explains.

He shakes his head in confusion, completely thrown by her answer.

"Look Liv, I get that you're thrown right now.. but do you really think a town full of bustling tourist is the best place for you?"

She's looking towards the tall trees and it occurs to him in that moment that maybe she doesn't want to slow down, maybe she doesn't want to remain stationary and think about all of the awful scenarios he had just painted for her, maybe she was just desperately trying to keep herself busy.

"Okay.." he softens his stance. "But I'm taking you," he tells her. "Just give me a second to change and we'll go."

He begins to step towards the house but she stops him with her words.

"I'd prefer to go alone."

He turns back to her.

"Olivia." He grits, his fingers curling over in frustration as he walks back to her. "You know I can't do that."

And there it is, the dynamic they have found themselves in.

 _The detective and the civilian._

She has lost all rights to her freedom now and she knows it.

 _She goes, he goes._

The keys jingle in her hands and her eyes trace his with intensity like it's a stand off.

"You can't stop me Elliot," she whispers through a terse breath and he doesn't know if it's a threat or a challenge but he can't escape the feeling that she's baiting him.

"Don't make this harder on me."

Her eyebrows raise at that. "Harder on you?" she scoffs. "Right, I can see this is real hard for _you_ Elliot. I'm sorry you're having such a hard time with it." She moves forward then opening the car door with force and he launches forward without thinking, grabbing her upper arm with one hand tugging her backwards, his other going straight for the keys.

She resists him and they struggle against each other.

She shouldn't be driving.

That's all he is thinking.

That is how he is excusing touching her right now.

She cannot be on the roads in this state.

She can hate him for this if she wants.

"This is not negotiable Olivia," he rasps into the back of her hair.

She shoves herself backwards trying to knock him off centre, small sounds of exertion are coming out of her. _Stop_ , he wants to plead, his mind reeling at all the ways in which she is making him confine her. She isn't tapering down and he knows this struggle is only going to escalate if he doesn't let go.

He shifts gears suddenly, pulling her into a backwards hug instead and he feels her body tense in surprise. "I can't do this Liv." His voice trembles, his adam apple bobbing furiously as he swallows against her hair. "Not with you okay," he takes a breath, his heart racing an absolute mile, at a complete loss as to how to handle this.

 _How to handle her._

"I'm not the enemy here," he whispers as distant emotion threatens to rise in his throat. "Please don't make me one."

There are no flocks of birds above to distract him, not even a hint of wind to rustle their clothes in this dry heat.

When silence is all she offers he loosens his hold, realising in that moment that she is right, _he cannot stop her_.

He cannot watch her 24/7, he cannot lock her in the cabin for weeks on end, he is going to have to learn to trust that she won't run.

He steps back and watches her in front of him _free,_ but unmoving.

"I can't lose you," he whispers to the back of her head, the emotion compounding in his chest and pricking at his irises. "I refuse to."

He doesn't know if it's his words or the space he has given her but she is turning around, her stance visibly softening as her eyes slowly lift up to his.

He watches her then, a light breeze finally kicking up and lifting the ends of her hair into a light dance.

"I'm going to need to borrow some sweats." She says quietly.

Then it's a few brief moments before she closes the car door and heads back to the cabin without another word.

 **TBC**


	13. Chapter 13

_AN:_ _Thank you for your words! I see you regulars popping up each time and I really appreciate it._

* * *

He finds her lying on her bed, a flash of black and denim catching his eye.

Her door is wide open but she's facing away from him, another example of where their boundaries now confusingly blur.

He hovers at the entryway, unsure if he should call out to check on her, or if he should close the door between them and let her rest.

She is still in her jeans, lying on top of the comforter, shoes strewn on the floor and she's unmoving.

She must be exhausted after the events of last night and their conversation today and maybe she was still coming to terms with what he had just said.

 _I can't lose you.. I refuse to._

After a few moments of internal debate he decides to head into the kitchen leaving the door slightly ajar, then it's minutes later when he returns with a hot cup of peppermint tea and a pair of sweats.

He enters the room quietly, rounding her bed before he places the mug on her bedside table.

He chances a glance downward noticing her eyes are open and she is staring at the wall with a blank expression.

She looks exhausted or in shock, or both.

"These are for you." He motions towards the grey NYPD sweats in his hand. "You wanna wear them now?"

She doesn't look up at him, just continues to stare at the wall.

He places them on the back of the dresser chair, figuring they'll probably be too hot to wear until nightfall anyway.

"I'll let you get some rest," he whispers. "Maybe later we can watch a movie if you're feeling up to it."

He had noticed a collection of old DVDs and boardgames in the hall cupboard when he was grabbing sheets. He figures they must belong the the cabin's owner and would make good distractions at some point.

 _Still nothing._

He starts to step out of her room, wooden floorboards creaking under his weight announcing his departure when he hears it.

"El."

He stills in place and turns back to her.

"Yeah."

"You requested to be here… on this assignment." Her voice sounds horse from constriction.

"I did." He confirms, unsure if it was a question or a statement but it shouldn't be news to either of them.

"Why?" She asks, still not turning around.

The hint of accusation in her tone wasn't lost on him so he gives her the same stock standard line he had given Kathy, Cragen, and himself.

"I know you better than anyone else. I've had your back for 12 years."

It wasn't a lie. He knows what makes her tick, he knows what she is thinking and if God forbid she was taken, he wouldn't stop until he found her. But he feels the disappointment threading through the room as if she had expected something other than this cookie cutter response this time.

"I also couldn't spend another day in the city wondering if you were still alive out here," he pauses, his chest starting to pound. "You don't think you'd be the same?" A similar hint of accusation comes back at her in return.

His statement shouldn't be news to her but it seems to land like it is. He can feel her taking it in, but there is still uncertainty looming like she is searching for a deeper truth, but those are thoughts he can barely admit to himself let alone her. He had given up a lot to be here but what she doesn't seem to realize is he'd lose a hell of a lot more if he hadn't.

The real truth is he's here because he misses her.

He's here because he needs her.

He's here because he loves her.

And that it was through her absence at the precinct that he realised he was no longer staying for the job anymore, he had been staying for her.

* * *

She is sitting beside him, her back resting against the base of the couch, her hair is out of the ponytail and wavy strands are now curtaining her face. He watches her in his peripherals as she dips a chip into their shared bowl of guacamole, the crunch of her bite echoing through the living room. He is glad that she is eating, he wasn't sure if she would lose her appetite after divulging the details that he did today but she seems to be keeping things down for now.

The sun had set behind them hours ago but she had only just struggled out of bed at dusk. He hadn't realized how exhausted she must have been to sleep through the day or maybe she hadn't slept at all, maybe she had just laid there in silence, staring at the wall, thankful that at least she didn't have to stare at his face.

The movie they were watching was just a backdrop for him, he hadn't been concentrating on the characters or the plot or the dialogue - he doesn't even remember the title. His whole focus has been on her - her demeanor, her appetite, her mood and she must be able to feel it. He watches her slowly lick the salt off her fingers, before she brushes the remainder on her jeans and draws the glass of red up to her mouth, taking a sip before it returns to the wooden floor with a light clink.

He sucks in a breath as aromatic flavors of wine touch his nose, calming his edges and he imagines the alcohol must be settling her own nerves too.

He's on the water.

A choice he made coming here because he needs to be alert - on guard, ready for any possibility. He wants the same for her too, but if she needs this after the events of today then he will gladly take the reigns of their safety tonight.

"Can we turn this off?" She asks quietly.

The comment surprises him, shakes him out of his thoughts and he looks over at her questioningly. They had barely spoken the entire movie so he assumed she had been engaged in it. He reaches for the remote on the sofa behind her head, his forearm brushing the back of her hair in the process as he presses pause on Bruce Willis' face.

A few beats of silence pass as she fingers the base of her wine glass, not picking it up but not letting it go either. He notices her shoulders have softened, her body relaxed, her legs tucked behind her, stacked one on top of each other as she looks over at him.

"I think the reason for you being here is purely selfish Elliot."

The accusation comes out methodical, like she was just stating a fact, one she had been holding onto for a while.

His chest pounds, not realizing she was still preoccupied by their earlier conversation, his mouth makes motions to respond when she beats him too it.

"Just as selfish as my need for you to stay."

His heart starts to race then.

She's not sipping her wine anymore or picking at the chips, she's not looking at Bruce's face, she is not doing a damn thing except continuing to stare at him somewhat accusatorially.

"What are you saying Liv?" He asks, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice, unsure if he's ready to hear this cold hard truth she seems intent on delivering.

Their bodies are close, about an inch apart, her chocolate pools are solid, intense and direct even beneath the down lights. She doesn't respond, just leaves him in limbo, drawing out this moment almost as if to make him suffer.

"Tell me why I'm here Liv," he presses, done with the games, done with her blatant accusation unless she backs it up, but nerves are threading through each cell and fibre of his body with each stretch of silence that passes. He doesn't think she has it in her to push this, to take this any further than she already has. She's going to change course, realize where she is heading with this and reroute this conversation.

That's what he expects.

But it's her second glass of wine, and it shows in the subtle flush of her cheeks, the hint of pink in her lips, the way in which her eye contact doesn't falter – _at all_. And maybe that's why she does it, maybe that's why she closes the distance between them, giving him barely a second to decide before she presses her mouth against his.

Time slows, as she simply holds his lips against hers, giving him an out, as if he could easily pull back at any minute and it would barely register.

Just a whisper.

Just a brush.

Just a peck.

But he makes a sound against her mouth, a small vibrational rumble and it's permission it seems because she is parting his lips with hers and deepening the kiss within seconds. He needs to breathe and so does she, so it happens in unison, oxygen entering their lungs as she draws his top lip between hers and sucks. He grasps the wine glass between them moving it out of the way as she fills the space with her body. Her breasts press into him, his chest pounding as she wraps an arm around his neck and he tugs her possessively into his side as if he's afraid she will retract at any moment. Her tongue slides into his open mouth and he makes a weakened sound, she tastes like berries, salt and heat and his lower half pangs in response to her kiss, her breath stealing every inch of oxygen from his body.

She pulls back, far sooner than he expects and he opens his eyes to take in her flushed face, she gives him a look he can't quite pinpoint, sadness intermingled with hope. Then she's up on her feet, taking the few barefoot strides towards her bedroom, looking back only once before she disappears behind the door.

He stands up then, unsure if he is to follow, but when he slowly enters her bedroom he see's that it's empty.

The entire room has been stripped.

No bed.

No dresser.

No Olivia.

Just darkness.

* * *

"El?"

"El?"

"Elliot!"

His eyes snap open.

He is standing at the side of her bed in the same position that he'd just entered her room.

But the bed _is_ there.

The dresser _is_ there.

Olivia is there.

The late afternoon sun is still setting around them, low light seeping through the slats of her blinds as she stands in front of him.

His eyes fall across her features, she is ponytail clad, with no flush to her cheeks or rose to her lips, just a pale, sleepy complexion staring back at him.

His mouth parts to say something but he thinks better of it, instead moving quickly back out into the living room.

He stops short when he sees the scene before him.

No wine glass, no guacamole, no Bruce Willis.

He turns slowly, unable to keep the disappointment and disbelief from his features when she meets him out in the living room.

Those eyes, those lips, _that_ _kiss._

It had felt so real.

"Are you okay?" She whispers.

He looks back at the empty couch. "What was I doing in your bedroom?"

"Just standing there, not moving." She lets out a breath. "Like you were in a trance or something."

He steps a little closer to her, as if he is desperate to get the version back from the dream before he realises it's redundant.

None of it was real.

"El have you seen someone about this.." she looks up at him worriedly. "It almost looked like you were blacking out back there."

"It will stop in a few days." He shakes it off.

She blinks back at him before she makes her way into the kitchen and starts to open the fridge, pulling out a few items.

"Right, so when it's the middle of the night and you're looming in the shadows, I'll just assume it's you and not Thompson then shall I?" She slams the fridge door closed.

He runs a hand over his face and walks towards her, stopping on the opposite side of the counter waiting until he gains her eye contact.

"I want you to push the dresser up against the door." He tells her seriously. "Just until this stops."

She grabs a mixing bowl from the cupboard and shakes her head.

"Why don't you just start _in_ my bed Elliot?" Those bold, direct eyes dart back to his as she grabs a knife from the draw. "Who knows maybe you'll sleepwalk back to yours." She slams the draw closed.

A few moments of silence pass between them and he can't tell if she's joking or not.

"I'm serious Olivia." He reiterates.

"I get that," she responds tersely. "But blocking exits is a bad idea and you and I both know that."

She starts to slice into an avocado then and his eyes fall downward to the ingredients she has laid out.

"What are you making?" He asks.

"Guacamole."

His heart begins to thrum. "Why?"

She looks up, annoyance masking her face. "I don't know, I don't feel like a big meal, you can reheat some pasta if you like." She continues to calve out the avocado with a spoon.

It's when she begins to slice into the second avocado that she looks up at him staring and does a double take.

"Elliot what is with you.."

"Nothing." He tries to shake it off once more but she is furrowing her eyebrows at him, not at all convinced.

"Can you hand me that lemon?" She tries to change the subject.

He walks the few paces towards the fruit bowl and picks up the lone lemon.

He holds it out.

"Thanks." She takes it, their fingers grazing. "Why don't you pick out a movie?" She motions to the cupboard, clearly still unsettled by his demenour.

He takes a few steps towards the cupboard then, scrubbing a hand across his face, trying to shake himself out of this when his eyes land on the familiar title.

 _Die Hard._

He lingers on the DVD, pulling it off the shelf before he collects 4 more at random. Then he returns to the kitchen laying them all out one by one.

She looks over at him, her eyes dropping down to the titles as she sucks some lemon juice off her finger.

"Which one?" He says flatly.

"I don't care."

"No." He insists. "Pick one."

She gives him a look of annoyance but he doesn't care how this is coming off.

He needs to know, his chest pounding as to which one she will choose.

"Fine," she says as she grasps a full bottle of wine down from the cabinet.

"Die Hard."

 **TBC**

* * *

 _AN: Sidebar the Die Hard/Bruce Willis reference was a flippant inclusion of mine initially but then as I read over it, it started to feel very familiar like I had read it somewhere before! I then discovered it's basically fic canon (Google tells me there are at least 6 EO fics that already mention it lol). Have you guys read it before too? I don't know what it is about this movie - perhaps Elliot's likeness to Bruce (which was why I chose it) but I figured I'd leave this in for kicks despite it being done many times before._ _Yippie Yi Yo Ki yay MFs. x_


	14. Chapter 14

_AN: "Elliot is on the water", means he isn't drinking alcohol._ _It's either and Aussie expression or I made it up! I'm not sure. But he's sober._

 _Thanks for reading and for your beautiful reviews. Omg. Blown away by them all. X_

 ** _*A general warning: This story contains violent scenes.*_**

* * *

They're about 45 minutes into the movie.

His mind is still swarming.

 _Was that a dream?_

Or a goddamn premonition.

It had felt so incredibly real.

The wine.

The guacamole.

Bruce Willis.

He must have fallen asleep on the couch, he had only closed his eyes for a second but it had been enough and now here they sat, side-by-side in the exact same positioning on the floor as his dream, separated by a humble bowl of mashed up avocado.

He watches her brush the salt off on her jeans as Bruce scales a Los Angeles roof top and it's a few seconds later that she is reaching for the remote. Her hand bumps his leg in the process and he watches John McClane's scowling expression halt mid frame.

He looks over at her, his stomach spiraling in anticipation at what she will say.

"What is going on El?"

 _Nothing._

He has nothing.

Just silence.

He gives her a blanket look of denial.

"This about tonight?" Her eyes motion towards the bedroom door before returning to his. "Are you worried about what will.."

"No," he breathes out, suddenly concerned that she might be. "Are you?"

She clutches the glass of red somewhat apprehensively before shaking her head.

"No."

 _Silence._

"Look El whatever this is.. would you just tell me? I can't handle anymore secrets."

He swallows, the flesh of his neck heating beneath her stare as he tries to figure out how best to respond.

"There's something else isn't there.." her back straightens, as if bracing herself for more gruesome details. "Please just tell me."

"No Liv," he shakes his head slowly. "You have all the information." He pauses. "It's just that I.."

But that's where his words end and the tension becomes borderline paralytic. He doesn't have an explanation he can articulate for her, he just wants that dream state back. He wants the carefree, calm, relaxed Olivia sitting in front of him but as he takes in her perplexed expression the reality of the situation dawns on him. Nothing about this situation should be carefree or romantic or relaxed, he just divulged the most horrific set of circumstances set to take place. Does he really think she'd be receptive to a hot and heavy make out session right now? But it's not the thought of kissing her that he's stuck on the most, it's being close to her, the intimacy, the comfort, the admissions - the promises a step like that would encompass. He knows they'll both need to give into this eventually, they won't last out here if they aren't honest with each other and tonight if he's honest with himself he just needs to be close to her in whatever form that takes.

 _Why don't you just start in my bed?_

His eyes drop down to her mouth and that's all it takes.

 _Just a whisper._

 _Just a brush._

He leans forward then, his chest pounding in anticipation, his lips seconds from colliding with hers when she flattens a hand on his chest.

"I'm ah," she whispers and his eyes flit back up to hers.

He can see the concern in her stare so he moves back.

"I think I'm gonna call it a night," she finishes.

He blinks back at her, an apology ripe on his tongue.

"I'm sorry Liv I.."

 _Shit._

He fucked it up.

12 years and he pushed it too far too soon.

His mind swarms with excuses, denials, but she is already getting up, moving away from him.

She drops the control down on the couch, looking down at him somewhat awkwardly before she starts to head towards the bedroom.

"Liv.." he begins. "Wait."

She stops in place, turning around slowly and their eyes lock, that's when he realises he only has seconds to salvage this.

"Don't you want to know how it's going to end?" He blinks back at her.

He watches the double meaning register on her face.

 _The movie._

Them.

There is a hint of trepidation in her eyes but it's the shortness of her breath that he is focused on as her chest rises and falls beneath his stare.

 _She's just as scared as he is._

He holds her gaze, begging her to just say something.

"El, we both know how it ends," she says sadly, looking away for a few beats. "They survive."

The silence extends between them as she looks over at him once more.

"And if we're smart, we will too.."

 _That's it._

That's all she leaves him with before she disappears behind her bedroom door and clicks it firmly closed.

* * *

Olivia rolls onto her back for the 20th time scrubbing a hand down her face.

It must be somewhere around the 2am mark when she's pulled out of her sleep again.

The first thing she pictures is Elliot Stabler leaning in, their mouths almost brushing.

 _Jesus Christ._

She feels the pang in her lower abdomen.

 _Was he really going to kiss her?_

Just like that.

In the middle of Die Hard like they were goddamn teenagers?

Her body is still reacting, all the cells still vibrating on high alert at his impending mouth.

He had touched her more times out here than he had during their whole partnership and as pissed off as she was at him for it, there was one thing she couldn't deny.

 _She was turned on._

She wonders what would have happened if she hadn't stopped him tonight. Images of their lips colliding in a heated frenzy, tongues swiping, breathless kisses, the push the pull. Would they have ended up on the floor of the cabin or would they have made their way into the bedroom, stripping off their clothes and dropping down heavily onto the mattress.

She can almost feel her breath leaving her body as he sinks down inside her.

 _Stop it Olivia._

She wanted to let it happen, _the kiss_. She did... but for whatever reason she panicked, the consequences of the situation overriding any ongoing physical need within.

But now, as she looks over at the closed door in the darkness she can't help it, a large, irrational part of her hopes he will find his way into her bed tonight.

She should be happy that she stopped him.

She should be pleased that she had _done the right thing_ , but as it turns out, she's as equally pissed at him for trying it, as she was at herself for stopping it.

* * *

It's an hour or so later when she sits up in bed, contemplating using the bathroom when a flood of dread fills her chest.

She spots a figure standing in the corner of her bedroom and her chest pounds as she backs herself up against the headboard.

 _It's just Elliot._

 _It's just Elliot._

 _It's just Elliot._

She repeats to herself, taking measured, tapered breaths but it's too dark to see for sure.

Then it happens quickly, almost lightening speed, the figure stalks towards her and she feels the covers yanked off her. He grabs her ankle and is sliding her roughly down the mattress. The yell lodges in the back of her throat and she flips over mid way onto her stomach, trying desperately to cling to something. But it's too late and he's not stopping, the bed suddenly disappears and she hits the floor with a thud, face-planting into floorboards before he flips her over.

She is woozy from the blow but her adrenaline manages to spike as she kicks firmly into his thigh muscle, his heavy body falling back. It gives her a chance to crawl backwards but the bedside table stops her pursuit, contents above her rattling above causing another blow to the back of her head.

"Elliot!" She shrieks out, hoping her voice will carry far enough through the walls to rip him out of his sleep. "ELLIOT!"

The dark figure looms above and she winces as he latches onto one of her wrists and drags her up to her feet. He moves her roughly up against the wall with a thud and pins her arms firmly at shoulder height, his whole body filling the space.

That's when it hits.

She can feel it.

She can sense it.

It _is_ Elliot.

 _What the fuck!_

She starts to panic, her body trying to fight him off her.

"Elliot what are- what are you -what are you doing?" Her words tripping over one another as he pins her struggling body against the wall with no intention of letting her go.

This doesn't make sense.

Elliot Stabler doesn't have a violent bone in his body when it comes to her but then her mind flits back to the small slice of aggression she had witnessed when he rammed her against the bedside table in pursuit of his phone and the man handling that occurred outside near the car when she had tried to leave.

"El, it's me, it's me," she whispers, her face still panging from the blow, that's when she feels it, warm liquid seeping from her nose and suddenly she can taste it. Blood.

She licks her lips.

 _Jesus_. He must have broken her fucking nose.

"What the hell Elliot?" She tries to twist her body beneath his hold once more, pulling at her wrists but he has them iron clad.

"You lay a hand on her and I will kill you," he spits downward and her heart-rate hammers at the intensity of his intent.

 _Jesus Christ._

He thinks she's Thompson.

She is trembling now, her breaths tripping over one another.

"El Jesus it's just me. Pl-ease you have to stop."

She tries to use her fingers to curl over into his wrists to touch him, ease him out of this but she can't quite get there.

"Please let me go," she presses her eyes together, tears beginning to trickle downward at her sheer powerlessness.

She feels him release a hand suddenly, the relief pouring through her but it's seconds before he replaces it with her throat.

She makes a muffled gurgling sound as she tries to gasp for air.

 _Oh God._

 _Stop stop stop stop stop._

Her free hand comes out and latches onto his wrist, her fingernails digging into the flesh around his wrist. She tries to use her hip to push into him, grunting with exertion but it's no use. Her chest is pounding when she realises with terror she is going to have to use extreme force if she is to remain conscious. She doesn't think then, just rams the heel of her palm upward into his jawbone.

She hears a crack and he grunts in pain, rearing backwards but it's not enough to let go of her completely.

The tightness around her throat instead increases to the point where her airway passage closes up completely. She is given no choice then, she counts to three and it's seconds before her knee comes up, thudding firmly between his legs.

His hand leaves her throat and his body doubles over in response, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

 **TBC**

* * *

 _AN: Trust me._


	15. Chapter 15

_AN: Someone of you didn't trust me and it showed._

 _Happy Birthday Melorgitay. X_

* * *

She is ripped from her sleep, tangled in blankets and bed sheets.

Her hair is matted with sweat, her chest is pounding.

 _What the hell?_

She hears a sound from the darkness and she goes into panic mode, backing up against the headboard like it's goddamn groundhog day.

She is completely disorientated. One minute she is fighting for her breath, while Elliot writhed around on the floor clutching his crotch. The next minute she's twisted beneath her covers dripping in sweat.

She hears a floorboard creek, a figure moving towards her in the darkness.

"Don't-t." She yells loudly. "Don't come any closer." She yells at the darkened silhouette.

She fumbles to her right, her hands connecting with the bedside table, then the bedside lamp and when she clicks it on she watches Elliot's form illuminate in front of her.

"Liv," his voice is groggy from sleep. "What the hell?" He is standing beside her bed in his boxers and a white t-shirt, using a palm to shield his eyes from the light.

She takes him in, noting he seems a lot different to the Elliot who had just tried to choke the life out of her.

"What are you-" she swallows, her mind reeling. "What are you doing in here?"

"You were calling my name," he explains, continuing to blink against abrasive light. "Repeatedly. I thought someone had broken in."

She touches her nose then, patting just below her nostrils, inspecting her hand until she sees no traces of blood.

"How long have you been in here?" She looks back up at him.

"I just came in," he whispers softly.

She kicks off the remainder of the blankets noticing she is still wearing his sweats but they're soaked through from the sweat.

"Liv.. you must have been dreaming." He looks down at her with concern.

She starts to move out of bed, her eyes dropping to his crotch, gauging no signs of pain inflicted. She steps closer, her nerves still on edge as she approaches him, her chest pounding as she lifts her hand, cupping the side of his cheek, turning his face towards hers. She see's no bruising, no marks, no indication that she had just slugged him so violently in the jaw. She presses into his cheek just to be sure, but he doesn't wince like she anticipates, just looks at her strangely.

"Liv." He repeats, cupping the back of her hand gently before he lowers it slightly.

"What's going on.. would you talk to me."

She shakes her head in disbelief before turning away from him.

It had felt so goddamn real.

All of it.

From start to finish.

"I ah.." she begins, her mind still scattered. "I'm going to shower," she looks up at him awkwardly. "And change out of these clothes."

* * *

She reemerges from the bathroom a short while laster wrapped in a cotton towel, her hair dripping wet.

Her body temperature had settled down somewhat but she knows her face would still look flushed with apprehension.

She sees him perched on the edge of the bed and when she steps towards him he stands up, handing her a pair of grey cotton shorts.

"I'm out of clean sweats but hopefully these will do."

She takes the shorts but her focus remains on his jawline, continuing to ascertain if there are any signs of bruising that had formed while she showered.

"I was just waiting to see if you were okay," he explains his presence in her room.

She remains silent, still staring at his cheek.

"Are you Liv?" He asks.

Her eyes return to his. "Am I what?"

"Okay?"

Her mind is still ping-ponging back and forth from dream state to reality but she finally nods her answer.

"Okay, I'll let you get dressed." He starts to move out of the room when she reaches out, clutching his forearm on his pursuit.

He stills in place, looking down at the hold she has on him and his eyes move back up to hers in question.

"I can't wake up to you looming over me again Elliot," she whispers earnestly.

 _Silence._

"I think you should just-" But she loses the nerve part way through her sentence and looks away.

"Just what?" He says disheartened as if he'd been expecting her to tell him to leave the cabin altogether.

A few beats pass before she motions to the other side of her bed.

"Sleep in here."

He looks over to the side of the bed she is indicating before he gives her a look.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Not really," she says honestly, her eyes still full of trepidation. "But if you've got a better one I'm all ears."

When he gives her nothing but a vacant look she steps away, grabbing a clean tank from her dresser and heading back into the bathroom to change.

"I'm on the right."

* * *

When she exits the bathroom this time, all the lights are off and for a second it throws her.

She makes motions towards her side of the bed, feeling her way through the blackness. She had just spent the entirety of her shower talking herself down from the dream so she wasn't about to overreact to a little darkness.

She slips beneath the covers, the mattress bowing beneath her weight and she draws the covers up to her neck. She settles into a position on her back, both of them remaining on their prospective sides of the bed as though someone had ran an invisible piece of tape down the centre.

A few beats of silence pass before she turns onto her side to face him.

He looks completely still and she wonders for a second if he had fallen back to sleep already.

"El?" She breaks the silence with a quiet whisper.

His name comes out as a question as if she has an irrational need to know it's actually him beside her.

She feels him turn then, rolling onto his side to face her and her chest starts to pound when they lock eyes in the darkness.

"Yeah."

"I need to know something," she begins, her heartbeat hammering at the concept of bringing this up.

She adjusts her position then, the shorts she's wearing shifting, the drawstring only just keeping them positioned on her hips.

"Have you ever…"

 _Thrum thrum thrum._

But her question ends, suddenly unsure as to how to proceed and she knows he must be getting sick of her incomplete questions.

"Ever what Liv?"

She presses her eyes closed when she says it. "Hurt anyone."

She leaves it at that. An open ended question mark for him to wade uncomfortably through.

"What do you mean?" He says hesitantly and she imagines a plethora of summations running through his mind right now.

"Physically." She swallows. "When you sleep walk? Have you ever-"

"No." He answers quickly, cutting her off. "Why?"

She can feel her shirt starting to meld to her back already, her skin feeling heavy with moisture from the air or maybe it's the intensity of this conversation. She blinks back at him and she can feel it, the tension surmounting like the heated moment right before lightning strikes.

"Tell me I didn't hurt you." He whispers firmly.

"You didn't." Her throat trips over herself to answer him. "I'm just saying.. " she breathes out. "Say you came in contact with someone during the night and you think they're a threat.. do you think you would ..attack them in your sleep?"

"Liv.." his voice is automatically softer. "If I thought for a second I'd be putting you in danger just by being here, I wouldn't be here."

That should be answer enough but for some reason she's still not convinced.

"Over twenty five years with Kathy and the kids… do you really think I would put my family in danger like that? My kids Liv..."

He's right.

This entire conversation is ridiculous.

It's all just her complete and utter irrationality spawned from a horrifying dream.

She clutches the pillow beneath her, feeling incredibly foolish for bringing it up in the first place.

"Where is this coming from?"

She rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling. "It's nothing." She blows out a breath. "Forget it."

"Clearly it's something."

 _Silence._

The heat in the room starts to compound and she wants to kick the blankets off.

"Liv." He whispers to the side of her face.

She presses her eyes closed, annoyed at herself, knowing she's going to have to explain it now.

"It was just a dream," she says quietly, looking up at the ceiling. "But in that dream you thought I was Thompson and you.. you dragged me out of bed," she pauses, her breath quickening in response. "You broke my nose and you tried to ..choke me to death." Her eyes start to prick then with irrational tears as if she is were recounting a real life attack.

"It's funny, all the cases we've worked.." she whispers. "I've often wondered if it would be harder for women to fight back when they know their attacker, like a part of their mind is just waiting for the man they once knew to come to their senses. But the reality is.. any hesitancy just results in further pain." She rolls over then, her eyes slowly finding his and seconds tick over that feel like lifetimes. "I fought back in the dream El.." she tells him. "But I waited.." her eyes squint at the thought. "I can understand now why it becomes too late for most women," she whispers. "Empathy is a silent killer."

"Liv," he whispers and she feels the subtle movements as he chances closer proximity. "Do you really think I'd be capable of any of that?" He reaches out, drawing the damp wayward strands of hair away from her face. "You gotta know I'd never hurt you." His hand cups her cheek lightly. "Conscious or unconscious."

She shivers against his touch and it's exactly what she needs, proof of his softer side to counteract that dream state. She feels herself inadvertently leaning into his touch, all her limbs aching to move closer with the sole intention of removing evidence of that dream. His hand slips down to her neck then and she shivers as he thumbs her pulse point, her chest pounding as he stares into her eyes.

"This entire situation is.." his words trail off. "There are no words for it Liv. But like I said.. I'm not the enemy here."

She blinks back at him.

"Far from it."

Her mind slips back to earlier in the evening when he had tried to kiss her, the nerves, the intensity, the heat she felt from the concept of it alone and she swallows beneath his palm.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," he says as if reading her mind. "I was scared Liv." And the honesty of that statement alone slams into her. "I think fear has a way of making people react differently.. doing things you wouldn't ordinarily do."

She raises a hand to the side of his face, the rough scratch of his stubble tingling her fingers as his dark blue eyes hold hers. She starts to move slowly then, removing the space between them, as if his words had given her some sort of unspoken permission to trial something without consequence. Her mouth flattens against his in the darkness, giving him a long, lingering peck and her kiss is fragile, feather-like, as if she's scared of breaking something.

 _Them._

Seconds tick by before she pulls back and they stare at each other tentatively, wading through the beats of silence like they're treading water in an infinate ocean. His hands start to snake into her damp tresses then, her chest pounding at the concept that everything she's denied for so long is now right in front of her for the taking.

He leans in this time, capturing her lower lip and sucking and it isn't long before he is parting her mouth, this tongue swiping across hers causing a rush of heat to flood her lower belly. He tastes exactly the way she expects - toothpaste mixed with spice and when the kiss starts to escalate he draws a hand up the back of her tank, her nipples instinctively hardening in response.

She pulls back quickly, almost in shock, resting her forehead against his to catch her breath.

"I don't know what I want El." She whispers honestly, the truth of that statement flooring her.

Because she doesn't.

She couldn't possibly.

She doesn't have her job.

Or any semblance of an identity out here.

She has no idea what her life trajectory looks like after today.

She doesn't have her partner in all the ways in which she remembers him.

And right now she doesn't have her safety in any sense of the word.

She expects disappointment or confusion from him but it's the opposite. He moves her instead into an unexpected embrace, guiding her until she is slipping into the crook of his neck as he lays on his back. His hand comes up and lightly holds her against him and she lets her hand splay out across his chest.

She focuses on the hand that's coasting the lip of her tank, lightly trailing his fingers tips on the exposed flesh and she closes her eyes in response.

He feels solid, warm, protective, all the things she needs in that moment.

"They have all eyes all over the city," he whispers, the words expelling against the crown of her head. "The moment they know, we know Liv."

She exhales into his neck, her body still reeling from that kiss, his touch, from the solid wall of man beneath her.

Her mind is still scattered beyond belief but it's her heartbeat that's finally starting to settle into a consistent rhythm.

"We wouldn't be here if it wasn't the safest place for us."

And it's with that one statement and the feel of his embrace that she knows she will sleep soundly tonight.

 **TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

_AN: Hello, I apologise for my absence. This is all I've been able to write in months for all my stories *sad face* but I figured I may as well post what I have._ _Thank you for your kind words. Hopefully I'll find my eo mojo one day soon._

 _Hope you're all well._

* * *

The first thing she hears is cracking.

Then popping.

Then sizzling.

Her nose crinkles and then she smells it.

 _Bacon._

She rolls over onto her side, her body spanning out the length of the mattress. She had contemplated what it would be like to wake up next to Elliot Stabler but as she runs her hands over the empty sheets, it would appear she'd have to wait another night to find out.

She slowly slips out of bed and runs a hand through her bed hair, looking sleepily around for some clothes, then it's minutes later when she's emerging from the bedroom, sporting a loose t-shirt and some old leggings.

She approaches him from behind, watching as he attends to the fry pan, hastily flipping over a stack of scrambled eggs. She has an uncharacteristic impulse to walk up and lightly touch his back and inspect the pans contents, but she swallows the thought back down, moving instead to the island counter he'd occupied last night.

The stool squeaks and he turns at the sound, a wave of contentment moving through his eyes at his new-found company.

"Mornin'," he says with a smile before he turns back around to attend to the toast that had just popped behind him. Her eyes roam across the planes of his back wondering just how to navigate the waters between them now post their small burst of intimacy last night. He busies himself with condiments before finally turning around, their eyes meeting as he slides the full plate towards her.

She takes in the eggs, bacon, sourdough and chutney, a range of items they had bought in town the other day, a far cry from yesterdays blueberry toast, but it's the steaming mug of hot coffee that she accepts first, their fingers lightly brushing as she takes it from him.

"Wow." She says, blowing on the brown liquid. "Looks great."

"I thought we could eat outside." He motions towards the swinging chair on the balcony. "For something different."

She smiles in return, her fingers tapping against the ceramic mug.

"Sure, that'd be nice."

* * *

They take a seat outside, the cool morning breeze easing the morning heat that builds around them.

"How'd you sleep?" He asks, swallowing a full mouthful of eggs.

"I slept well," she responds still sipping her coffee, the answer even surprising her. "You?"

"Same." He nods.

They sit in silence then, only the clinking of cutlery, the creek of the swinging chair and the light breeze filling their ears. She looks out at the vast expanse of green, the sun peaking out behind the foliage causing a pang of nostalgia to hit.

"I didn't get up?" He continues. "Didn't crush you in your sleep?"

She smiles at that, his words bringing her back to the present.

"If you did, I didn't wake up for it." She takes another sip of her coffee, the words echoing into her mug.

"Well," he begins casually, as she continues to focus on the trees dancing in front of her. "A couple more nights, you'll have your bed back."

Her coffee cup hovers mid air and it feels like a punch to the gut.

She knows he'd said it to give her a sense of privacy and control in a somewhat uncontrollable circumstance but the sentiment falls uneasily in her chest until it has nowhere to land.

Then it becomes clear.

She doesn't want it back.

Her mind quickly moves from his proximity in her bed, to the couch and eventually to the point where he will leave, because eventually he'll have to. He has a job to go back to. He has kids. He has a life. He can't stay out here forever.

"So I was thinking…" he begins, oblivious to her internal shift. "Maybe we could head down to the creek today. I hear there's a waterfall a ways down, might be nice to take a swim in this heat."

But she's still stuck on his comment, the words pummelling through her like a timely reminder.

 _This is not permanent Olivia._

 _He is not permanent Olivia._

 _Don't get too comfortable Olivia._

She runs her bare feet on the wooden veranda trying desperately to anchor them but they're swaying too fast for her to gain her footing. She looks down at the generous serve of food that she doesn't know what to do with now, her stomach turning at the concept of having to consume it.

"Liv?" He looks over at her concerned. "You okay?"

She wishes for her sunglass in that moment so she could cover her eyes from the morning sun and the enviable truth that would be visible in her expression.

"Yeah I.."

She finally meets his eyes, concern brimming within hers but it's the quiet, reassuring look that he gives her that manages to ease her anxiety. It's the same look he used to give her on the field right before a bust and she lets out the breath she's holding, surprised at just how easy it was to disarm her. He'd just talked her off that mental ledge without so much as a word and it makes her crave Elliot's softer side now more than ever. Even in this very moment she aches to be close to him, in a small way - his arms around her shoulders, a hand on her leg.

"Liv."

She gives him a weak smile. "Yeah." She responds quietly. "I'm good."

But truth be told, she was better than good.

As long as he stays.

* * *

 **TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

_Seven days housebound on hospital grade painkillers post surgery and this is all I produced. But alas_ _it's_ _something!_

 _If there are typos I blame the drugs. X_

* * *

She slips on the olive green bikini.

She hadn't purchased new swimwear for this venture so this old pair with frayed edges would have to do.

She takes herself in, her chest rising and falling quietly in her reflection. Her eyes coast over her curves, her skin, the small marks on her body; scars from a life of justice and protection. The bikini is a little snug, which she accounts to the rich country food, nightly wines and decrease in movement. She's technically on holiday mode out here, there are no cases to run out to so her breasts and tummy have taken on the brunt of her indulgences.

She attempts to adjust the bikini top but there is nothing she can do from disguising the generous amount of cleavage it's displaying. She sighs in response, slipping on the black tank top wondering if perhaps she'll keep it on in the water. She's never been one to feel self-conscious about her body but it's the dynamic shift between her and Elliot now that's thrown her off center, making her question all the little things.

This is new territory for them.

 _'I don't know what I want.'_ She had told him.

But it's clear in the way she is critically taking in her reflection.

That was a lie.

She knows exactly what she wants.

She's just scared to death of it.

* * *

Twenty minutes into their walk and she hears Elliot call out behind her.

"Sounds close."

She can hear the distant sounds of water pummelling and as she rounds the bend the path beneath her dips into a lush green expanse of valley, giving her a beautiful and unexpected view of their surrounds.

She stops in place - mesmerised, taken by the sight of cascading water careening down the edge of the cliff, snow-like froth collecting at the bottom like a winter wonderland. She cannot believe in the three months she's been out here she didn't even know this existed. He steps up beside her, following her eye line and she realizes in that moment there's a silence you can fall into out here that feels far more intimate than any conversation.

She drops her towel beside a tree not taking her eyes off the view and begins slipping off her shoes and socks. The ground is wet beneath her, the morning dew a welcome relief to her sticky feet. She is still perspiring from the walk, so she drags her tank off without even thinking and when she looks over at him she finds him staring blatantly at her body.

"Beautiful." He whispers before his eyes drag back up to hers. "Don't you think?" He motions to the falls behind him with a head tilt.

She shakes her head, biting back a smile and ignoring his obvious appraisal of her breasts. She slides off her gym shorts then, modesty be damned if it means she can cool off in this stark heat. Then it's seconds before she is stepping down the incline of grass, hearing him strip off behind her and following her closely down the rocky bank.

She pauses for a brief moment before she dives into the water and it's instant - all noise and sensory perceptions cease within an instant. Her breath is taken and her heart begins to thud erratically underwater. A darkness overtakes and her feet slip uneasily against the mushy bank until she gains enough traction to push up herself upward.

She surfaces with a gasp for air, choking on her breath, looking around through blurred vision until she locates Elliot a few body lengths away.

Her eyes move up to the large expanse of trees cocooning them in, sounds of nature billowing in her ears and that's when her breath starts to shorten further, each inhale is tripping over the last. She feels lightheaded, shaky, nauseous almost and she can't for the life of her formulate the words to tell him what's going on.

"You okay?" Elliot calls out before he starts to wade back towards her.

She just blinks back at him but at this point even her vision is distorted.

"I-" she tries, her eyes darting towards the noises around them and then the feeling worsens, the trees feel as if they are actually caving in on her now. She presses her eyes closed, realising the air she is inhaling isn't actually reaching her lungs. It must be the water, the stark contrast in temperature stealing her breath, rendering her still.

But this feels different.

"Liv," he moves closer worriedly clutching her upper arms to keep her above the water, but she can't even open her eyes at this point, she's just steadily counting the breaths. _1,2,3 -_ "Having trouble…" she whispers _4,5,6._ She is clutching onto his forearm now, her fingers sinking in as she presses her eyes closed.

"Having trouble what?" He says in a panic.

"Br-reathing."

"Jesus," he responds, wading her quickly backwards in the water until it's shallow enough for him to bow his head under and scoop her up and over his shoulder. She falls over his body, her bearings shot, her breathing hitched as he holds the backs of her thighs as he leads her hastily back up to the bank fireman style.

He moves her downward, laying her onto the prickly blades of grass and he grasps her cheek, holding her steady as his fingers find her pulse. He presses two thumbs inward and she closes her eyes against the sunlight, feeling painfully vulnerable in this position.

"Your heart is racing," he whispers. "Did you step on something?"

"No." She chokes out.

"Did you hit your head when you went in?"

"No."

She can feel him yanking at her arm, inspecting her body for signs of distress.

"Something bite you?"

"No," she whispers grasping a roaming arm, sinking her fingers into his flesh, drawing him further downward.

"But something's wrong."

 **TBC**


	18. Chapter 18

_Thank you for your well wishes and kind reviews. I have recovered._

* * *

"A panic attack?" Elliot questions as the medic emerges from the bedroom, shutting the door with a light clink.

The medic nods.

"Brought on by?" Elliot worries his lower lip.

"Could be anything. Has she been under a lot of stress lately?"

He wants to laugh at that, only no part of this is funny.

Elliot nods, "Yeah," he looks away, guilt ridden. "She is."

"I've given her a sedative, she'll sleep it off, just keep an eye on her fluids and keep her calm, if she has a relapse, a paper bag is going to be your best friend."

 _Keep her calm._

Elliot wonders how exactly that's going to be possible with the Thompson threat looming day in and day out. He watches the medic pack up his bag and move towards the door, then moments from exiting he turns around as an after thought.

"Seriously though, do what you can to try and keep her stress levels down. Nothing high intensity, I'd keep her home for a few days."

Elliot nods in understanding.

"Will do Doc."

He watches the man exit through the front door and waits a few moments before he turns towards her bedroom. He knows he should let her sleep but he just wants to check on her. He opens the door only so, catching her curled up on her side and facing away from him. He stares at her for a short while before she begins to stir at the motion, rolling over sleepily and squinting at the small burst of sunlight that's peaking through the door.

"That you El?" Her voice is groggy.

"Yeah." He is holding the doorframe like a barrier, internally debating whether or not he should step into her room.

"I should ah – I'll let you rest." He concludes.

"I'm sorry." She clears her throat in the darkness and it's the vulnerability he hears in her apology that causes him to move through the threshold and into her room.

"Liv, this is all on me," he whispers, a regret filled breath leaving his body. "I shouldn't have taken us that far away from the cabin." He shakes his head. "I didn't think."

She blinks up at him. "I.. just.."

He watches her still trying to process it all, realizing she's just as shaken up by the experience as he is.

"I don't know what happened." She tells him in a weightless tone.

"Have you ever had a panic attack before?" He asks cautiously, not sure they've ever experienced anything like this.

A few beats pass before she responds.

"No."

A wedge of guilt stabs into him.

 _Thompson._

"Well," he lets out a breath, grateful at least that the situation hadn't been more dire. "I'm just glad you're okay."

She isn't looking at him anymore and he can tell there are words she wants to voice but that perhaps now was not the time.

"Do you want me to go?" He asks.

That makes her eyes return to his.

"No."

He tries to gauge the vacant, tired stare she is giving him and when she doesn't follow up her answer he begins to step forward. His eyes don't leave hers as he makes his way over to his side of her bed, giving her ample time to object as he draws down the blanket. He slips beneath the covers leaving an intentional few inches between them before he looks over at her cautiously.

She blinks back at him before she begins to slip through the sheets, surprising him by nestling intimately into his side. His hand comes up, cradling her upper back, holding her against his chest like it's the most natural thing in the world and that's when he realises she's still wearing the damp bikini beneath her t-shirt.

"You didn't change," he notes in a whisper.

 _Silence._

"Liv, you should get out of these, warm up in the shower."

"Too tired." She mumbles drowsily and that's when he remembers the sedative. He moves his hand up the back of her shoulder blades and across the nape of her neck until he is slowly drawing it back down in a calming, warming motion.

"Okay Liv," he whispers, his hand still smoothing up and down her back until it finally rests at the nape of her neck. "We can take it easy for the next few days," he presses his eyes closed, damp strands of her wet hair tickling his fingers. "Watch some movies, play some board games.. stay home for a while."

The word slips out.

 _Home._

It had felt so natural to say and was now filling his chest with an odd sense of calm. She's practically motionless against him now, his own heart rate slowly starting to taper down in alignment with hers. He notices her fingers are no longer biting into his waist, just resting on his hip and it hits him in that moment.

It's the first time he has felt this way in a while.

 _Home._

 **TBC**


	19. Chapter 19

_I have a habit of posting updates to stories but not actually moving the story along,_ _but there is still a storyline here I promise._

* * *

She stirs somewhat in a daze, feeling the weight of his hand against her hip, coupled with the steady breaths against her nape. Her eyes blink open, minimal rays of the dark afternoon sun setting through the room. It's dusk, not dawn and she swallows, shifting her hip only slightly the heaviness of his hand both a comfort and a hindrance.

She licks her lips, feeling like she just slept a thousand days.

"El."

It comes out croakier than she expects and she feels him stir, his hand squeezing her hip in response before he slides his hand up her stomach, the tips of his fingers brushing beneath the lip of her shirt. She blinks slowly, her heartbeat is much slower, much more languid that before.

"Mmmhmm." He mumbles sleepily into her neck, his murmur louder than she expects, like it had come through a loudspeaker. He tugs her a little closer, feeling his lips nestle further into her tresses.

She presses her eyes closed, moving her hand to cup the back of his palm but she misses, her fingers trailing over his thigh. She pats around on his pant leg until she finally locates his hand and rests hers on top of it.

"What did .." she whispers, moving her other hand up to shield her eyes from the small amount of light coming through the blinds. "What did he give me?"

A few seconds pass by as she assumes he is registering what she had asked.

 _The doctor._

"Valium." He mumbles. "And maybe a second sedative."

She continues to breathe slow breaths through her nose, she had always assumed valium would feel more blissful than this and less unsettling.

"Okay." She whispers, closing her eyes once more. "I feel like I could sleep for days."

"So sleep Liv." He whispers back, his hand slipping across her stomach and drawing her in closer.

* * *

It's a few hours later when she wakes up.

She sits up, her mind still groggy from the valium and she realizes it's nightfall again and she's alone.

She rakes a hand through her hair that's now hitched into messy curls and slips out of bed.

She drags on an oversized hoodie and when she emerges from the bedroom she finds him with his back to her talking on the phone in hushed tones.

She involuntarily makes herself known and he turns around at her sudden presence.

"Okay," he says to the caller as their eyes meet, his expression giving nothing away. "And how long ago was that?" When Elliot receives his answer he is moving towards the sliding doors. "Right," he says, opening the glass door. "Yeah send it through to this number." That's all she catches before the doors close between them and silence surrounds her. She knows something is off but as she watches his figure pace the veranda, any urge to follow him is stilted by the valium in her system.

She makes her way instead into the kitchen, her bare feet hitting the cool tiles making her feel a little unstable, like she had just walked onto ice. She steadies herself on the kitchen counter with one hand, switches the kettle on with the other and just stares at the row of mugs in front of her trying to focus on their proximity but she's having difficulty with depth perception. She slides one towards her and manages to scoop a tea bag out from the canister but when she drops it into the mug she misses and it hits the counter instead.

She blinks back at the scene, unsure as to how to resolve this situation.

She instead changes gears and moves over to the sink running the cold water and splashing it on her face. She stands there for a few moments trying to get centred, the kettle behind her beginning to hiss, but even the concept of lifting the kettle now feels like too much. She sways on her feet in waiting, hoping Elliot isn't far off but she soon realises she is either going to be horizontal by her own doing, or it will happen regardless. She gives in, making her way back to the bedroom, holding onto the door frame before she uneasily makes it to her bed.

She lies down, suddenly extremely warm and starting to sweat beneath her multiple layers. She begins to peal off each layer one by one – the hoodie, the t-shirt, the sweats until she's left solely in her bikini. She then slips under the sheet tugging it up to her waist and moving onto her chest until her arms nestle under the pillow in front of her. She feels the cool night air gloss over her lower back and she starts to sink back into a lulled state of rest.

She doesn't know how much longer it is when she hears the sliding door go, then it's footsteps, movement – and suddenly she feels a presence at her doorway. She hears a clink of porcelain against the bedside table and when she rolls over, she sees he has brought in the tea that she'd had trouble making.

"You okay Liv?" She can feel him looking down at her.

"Yeah.. I.." She manages and then she is up on her elbows trying to figure out how to reach the tea he had just brought to her.

She clears her throat. "Who was ah.. on the phone?" She starts to reach out for the tea and he helps her, cradling the mug for her in both his hands as she sits up to take a sip.

"No one." He dismisses the question.

She drags the sheet up her chest somehow managing to keep her cleavage covered as she takes another sip.

"Uh huh." She says not so convincingly but in actual fact she is far too zonked to really prod any further.

"How long was I out?" She asks tiredly.

"A while." He answers.

"How long until this stuff wears off?"

"I'm guessing a while more." Elliot responds.

She sighs before settling back into the pillow with an exhale, her eyes coming to a close once more.

She feels his stare on her face before he starts to move once more, potentially heading for the door.

"Can you.. " she begins but then cuts herself off, suddenly thinking better of it.

"Can I what Liv?"

She knows it's going to sound ridiculous to even ask this but when she woke up alone she had a strong desire to remove any space between them.

"Can you stay in here?" She asks. "Just until this stuff wears off." A few beats of silence pass as she hears no response. "It just feels weird not knowing where you are."

She hears him hesitate on his feet for a moment before he starts to toe off his shoes, then his belt buckle, dragging his jeans down to his boxers. She feels the bed bow beneath his weight, sensing him climbing up the bed and when she turns onto her side she can see he's kept an intentional body width between them.

She disregards the boundary, slipping through the covers and nestling into the side of his body like it's common practice for them but she can't explain it, she just needs the closeness. She sighs into his t-shirt covered chest, a few beats passing before she grasps his hand and moves it up to her cheek. "Feel this." She whispers, softly sliding his fingers across her cheek for a few brief moments. "Because I can't El.. I can't feel my face," she says with a smile.

That gets a chuckle from him.

"I can't feel my lips either," she says running his thumb absently across her lower lip, brushing it slowly back and forth for a few stilted moments, then without thinking too much about it she slowly moves his palm down the side of her bare torso until it reaches her bikini clad hip moving it further down - lower - until he is hitting her outer thigh, then curving his palm around to cup her ass. "Or this," she whispers.

"Jesus Liv," he whispers into the crown of her head before he slips his hand from her capture. "You're high as a kite."

She smiles in response, letting out a sated breath.

"Correct."

A few beats pass and it's only slow breaths and silence that's exchanged between them.

"You should really put some clothes on," he whispers through the darkness.

"You should really lose some," she quips back.

When he doesn't respond to that she runs her fingers slowly up and down the curve of his torso and back again until she is slipping beneath the material of his t-shirt. She moves her hand over each raised muscle of his chest and slowly back down to his abdomen as she teases the waistband of his boxers before finally resting her hand on his breastbone. "I can feel _this_." She whispers, her voice low and dozy. "I can feel _you."_ She hums at the realisation. "But not me." She ponders. "Isn't that strange.."

"Yeah Liv.." his voice cracks slightly. "It is strange."

And then she's out.

 **TBC**


	20. Chapter 20

_AN: Hey guys, thanks so much for your patience and support during this story! I re-read it recently in it's entirety and man there were a lot of plot holes throughout, not to mention general tone inconsistencies (aka is this a rom com or a horror movie?) who would know?! *side eyes* I blame all those post surgery painkillers I was on which skewed and sparked off Olivia's wild panic attacks/drug binges lol, so yeah, it's very up and down and all over the place but you've all been very forgiving with your kind comments, so thank you! I went back and fixed a few things up but it's def not my favourite fic to say the least but in saying all this, holy crap, shout out to Lyricara for leaving me 999 reviews on what I consider to be my shoddiest piece to date! Shooketh, not worthy, but very, very appreciative._

 _Hope you guys enjoy where I pick this up as I try to get us back on track. X_

* * *

She doesn't wake up at first light like her body is used to, instead she comes to the blinding awareness that it's closer to midday. The digital clock blinks back at her with judgement as she runs a hand over her face. She still feels groggy and out of sorts from the plethora of drugs she had taken last night so she knows she will be slow to move today.

She turns absently looking over her shoulder to find empty space behind her, a bout of relief fills her chest when she realises she's alone.

She needs a minute.

Her muscles are a dull ache and she thinks she has just enough energy to drag herself out of bed, shower and maybe even brush her teeth if she's lucky.

Anything beyond that, she's not so sure.

She moves upward, her head spinning and when the sheet falls down to her lap she realises she's still bikini clad.

Jesus, that was a dangerous mix, sleeping next to her partner in this.

 _Poor guy_.

She looks around for a shirt to slip on and when all she can find is one of his oversized grey t-shirts she pulls it over her head, messing up her bed hair in the process.

The musk of his scent hits her immediately, the shirt needs a wash but she likes it. _A lot_. In fact she is getting used to it – his smell, his presence - in her bed, in her house, it was all consuming.

She doesn't want it to go.

She had even recalled waking up last night to feel him up against her body, his hand resting just above the seam of her bikini bottoms at her hip, skin on skin. She had attempted to move, to readjust herself but he had tugged her back against him unwilling to let her go.

Even in his unconscious, he was possessive.

She had wanted him last night and even through the haze of those drugs she was turned on at the thought of sleeping with her partner.

 _She still is._

That much was evident but the context of their situation coupled with the risks at stake was causing her to wall him out, to take this slower than they probably needed to. But most of all, beneath the surface of this arrangement she couldn't shake the aching thought that he would have to return to the city eventually, even if she couldn't.

This was her new normal.

But she had to remind herself that it wasn't his.

Like Elliot had said - even if Thompson was caught, this still wouldn't be over.

It was only a matter of time before Elliot would go and would she really survive the post intimacy if he just left?

That thought, _and only that_ , was what was truly holding her back.

She made her way into the bathroom clicking the door closed behind her and turning on the faucet. She starts to brush her teeth taking in her tired features, making note of the mess the lake had made to her hair, trying to remember the last time she showered when a knock on the bathroom door behind her caused her to jump in surprise.

She's got a mouthful of foam threatening to spill from her lips so she spits it into the sink so she can respond.

"Yeah." Her words echo in the sink.

 _Silence._

 _Nothing._

She hears nothing.

Now she's questioning if she had heard it to begin with.

"El?" She repeats, turning her ear towards the door.

 _Nothing.._

"When you're done," she hears him finally call out through the wood. "Can you come out here please?"

Something was up.

That much was obvious.

She can hear it in his tentative tone and her heartbeat was already starting to ratchet into overdrive at the possibilities.

She runs her toothbrush under the spray, patting her mouth dry with the hand towel as she considers the options. Her first thought was that something she had said or done last night was out of line and he was going to call her on it. The exact details of the night prior were still hazy for her but she does remember the flirting.

 _And the touching._

The way she had boldly run her hands across his chest, not to mention the way she'd unabashedly slid his hand across her ass.

 _Jesus._

 _Drugs._

 _It was the drugs.._

Her second thought was one she didn't even want to entertain and she will not allow herself to think about - _Thompson,_ particularly after just spending an entire day coming back down from those dark debilitating anxiety ridden thoughts.

She just prayed it was the former.

She prayed they were still safe.

She emerges from the bathroom, surprised he wasn't waiting for her outside the door given the urgency in his voice and when she makes her way into the living room she finds him on the couch with his head buried in his phone.

"Everything okay?" She approaches warily, a small bout of concern building in her chest when she takes in his stance.

He looks up at her but he does a double take, his eyes unable to help but fall down her exposed thighs, that's when she realises she's only wearing his t-shirt.

"Agent Greene will be here in a few minutes." He tells her before his eyes return to his phone. "So you better ah.. put something on."

But her heart is already racing - for an agent to visit there is definitely something up. She hadn't seen Greene since the first week she'd moved in and they'd only spoken a handful of times on the phone since.

 _Was this about the phone call he'd received yesterday?_

She folds her arms protectively across her chest, a plethora of theories flooding her mind.

 _She's been made._

 _Elliot's being reassigned._

 _She has to be relocated._

 _They caught Thompson._

"Do we know why he's coming here?"

"Liv." Elliot looks up once more, his eyes pressing her state of undress. "He'll be here any minute."

She steps a little closer to where he is seated.

"First tell me why he's coming."

He stands up to meet her face to face.

"Someone in town was asking for you." His eyes move slowly between hers as she registers the information. "Yesterday," he lets out and the shoe drops. "They've held him overnight for questioning and Greene wants to see you today.. ask you some questions."

He is close now, close enough that she can see the concern he's desperately trying to mask from her and has done so for a day now.

 _So that was the phone call he'd received yesterday.._

He is close enough that she feels an overwhelming need to create some physical distance between them so she can digest what he has just said her. She takes a step back, the concept hitting her sideways, assumptions starting to brim but she talks herself down from each one, trying not to let the internal panic build. But what she's mostly stuck on was the fact he'd kept this information to himself despite everything that went down yesterday.

She realises in that moment that they were right back to square one.

 _Civilian versus Detective._

"Okay." She presses her lips together trying to stifle her impending anger. "They say who? A name? A description?" She tries to meet him on his level and switch this back into their old dynamic.

 _Detective_ _versus_ _Detective._

"No." He says simply, not giving anything away.

She looks at him then as if she's not entirely satisfied with that answer and she wants to scoff.

There must be more - he must know more than that, surely he is holding something back and she knows it's all right there on his bloody phone.

"Olivia," his eyes flit down to his shirt. " _Get_. _Dressed_ ," he practically hisses.

Her eyes flicker with heat.

"Who did he ask for?" She doesn't back down and he is moments from opening his mouth when she continues.

"Laura or Olivia?" She explains. "Which name?"

She knows it's a strange question to ask, but it's a valid one.

He gives her an odd look and the silence builds between them, practically swelling with trepidation.

"Why," he cocks his head to the side. "Someone know you're out here Liv?"

Her expression remains neutral and she watches his jaw twitch, she knows they've just entered a stalemate, neither of them willing to back down so they both just stare unmoving.

The knock rattles them and he curses under his breath, scrubbing a hand down his face before he moves his body in front of her, blocking her from view.

"Get dressed," he rasps down at her. "I'll get the door."

Given the cabin exterior was bordered with glass, she actually listens.

 **TB** **C**


	21. Chapter 21

_AN: I don't know why I feel continually compelled to mess with these two .. but I do and I'm sorry. I hope this helps as a nice distraction during this trying time in the world._ _Enjoy, stay safe an_ _d thanks for the words. X_

* * *

She needs a shower, badly.

Her hair is a mess, she hasn't worn make up in days, she still has sleep in her eyes but there is a federal agent in her living room so her unkempt appearance would have to do. She takes a seat in front of Greene and listens as Elliot makes a god awful noise dragging a kitchen table chair across the floorboards before setting himself down to her left.

She leans down on her forearms, black leggings and a loose sweater now hiding the bikini beneath but she still feels incredibly exposed.

"So Olivia," Agent Greene begins and she catches the hint of discomfort beneath his cool exterior.

 _'Olivia.'_

Over a decade on the force and her title has incidentally been stripped because of one psychotic serial killer that had it out for her.

It bothers her a lot more than she lets on.

"As Detective Stabler informed you, someone was asking for you in town yesterday at approximately 12noon at Lindy's Diner."

Midday.

24 hours ago.

She takes the information in, bracing herself for something else – something more. She had heard hushed tones exchanged between them while she was changing so she can only assume the bulk of information was yet to come.

"We're currently holding that man in town," Greene continues, caution imbedded in his tone. "You were obviously in no state to talk yesterday so that's why we've waited until today, but we have good reason to believe that he's a threat."

She scrubs her hands over her face before she clasps them together, trying to keep up with the information he is delivering but her mind is still stuck on midday. That was the same time she'd been down at the river, the same time as her panic attack.

She wonders if on some level she had felt this coming.

As the Agent continues to prattle off background information she is already privy too she becomes acutely aware of Elliot's proximity.

He is sitting close to her, _too close_ \- close enough that she wants to tell him to sit back and give her some room because his stare was burning her peripherals. In fact, she wants to tell him to leave the room altogether because there is still heightened tension from their earlier interaction that has in no way been dispelled.

 _Civilian versus Detective._

"The reason we have genuine concerns is because the man in question asked the owner of the diner for Olivia to start with.. then he changed it to Laura."

Her ears prick up at that last part, confusion intermingling in her chest, her eyes widening, no wonder Elliot didn't say shit to her yesterday, he knows she wouldn't have taken this lightly after her anxiety riddled episode but how he managed to keep that piece of information hidden she doesn't know.

She chances a glance over at him, disbelief lining her features but he is just staring at her with a neutral expression, chewing on the inside of his cheek as if he were watching a baseball game, waiting for the highlights to come on.

She shakes her head at him, completely taken aback at his indifference.

"Another concerning factor," Greene begins, "is that he had a second ID on him with a different name."

She is still looking at Elliot when the second piece of information lands and her stomach starts to spiral. She presses her eyes closed, a familiar niggle beginning to culminate in her chest but she does her best to push that feeling back down, because she can't go back down that rabbit hole.

She wonders if that is why Elliot is sitting so close to her right now. _Does he expect her to relapse? To spiral? To fall on the floor in a huddled mess? Is he only sitting this close to her so he can catch her when she falls?_

She wants to move past the details now – she just wants to get to the outcome.

 _Is she going to be re-identified?_

 _Relocated?_

 _A new state?_

 _A new house?_

 _Will she have to start all over again?_

 _How many more months?_

 _With or without Elliot?_

"His drivers licence states his name as Andrew James Riley." Greene reads off his notepad. "The second ID is an international passport with the name Andrew Samuel Mathers." Greene looks up with a question in his eyes. "Either of those names ring a bell?"

She shakes her head.

"You sure?" Greene's eyes drop to the pad once more. "Brown hair, green eyes, olive skin, late 40's, foreign accent, 6'1." Greene prattles off the descriptive attributes all the while she can feel Elliot's stare on her like a hawk, watching every flicker of response to the information she is being delivered.

"Yes," her voice cracks.

"Yes what?" Greene gives her a look.

"Yes I'm sure," she confirms. "None of this rings a bell."

Greene and Elliot exchange a look and when the silence starts to extend it hits her, that perhaps _she_ was the one under interrogation.

She raises her eyebrows at Greene, giving him a look. "Should it?" She parts her hand in question. "Am I supposed to know this person?"

"Well.." Greene clears his throat. "He says he knows you."

"Okay.."

"Quite intimately in fact." Greene confirms.

She leans further forward, giving him a look like she's going to need a little help.

A few beats pass before the Agent starts to sift through his bag and Olivia watches as he pulls an iPad out. He taps the screen to life, bringing up a row of photos before he selects one.

"This is the man," Greene confirms. "So I guess..you tell us?"

He hands it to her from across the coffee table and she leans across to take it, confusion intermingling as to why they had just drip fed his description when they could have easily led with his photo. She looks down at it, the sudden realisation hitting her like a tonne of bricks, a blinding wave moving through her chest as she takes in the guy's familiar face. She sits back on the couch, a mixture of concern, disbelief and embarrassment starting to intermingle.

She feels like she just got the wind knocked out of her.

 _Oh fuck._

It can't be.

It just can't.

She drops the iPad down on the coffee table with a clatter and stands up quickly. She hopes being upright will help shift the culmination of energy that had just flooded through her body but she can feel the heat from their stares as she nervously begins to pace behind the couch.

She feels lightheaded, her mind swarming in disbelief - she needs water.

"I take it you know this man?" Agent Greene states the obvious.

She stops to clutch the back of the sofa, trying to figure out how and why this is happening and how best to respond to this. She can still feel the sting of Elliot's eye contact on her every move and it's boring holes into her at this point.

She wills herself to take a breath and just remain calm, she can handle this, _she can_. She just really, _really_ wishes he didn't have to be present for this.

"Elliot." She chances a glance at him. "Can you give us a minute please?"

His eyes flicker beneath her stare and she watches the muscle of his jaw jump the way it does when he's just been challenged. She knows the look he is giving her now is the one usually reserved for perps, feds, the IAB, occasionally Cragen and in some very rare cases – _her_.

"It's Detective.." he bites back. "And no."

She sees the small fire in his eyes, and she wants to retaliate - _she does_ , but even she knows her hands are tied. Elliot is the detective assigned to her case, their personal and professional history is irrelevant right now and she had just tried to undermine him in front of a federal agent.

"Olivia," Agent Greene interjects gently, trying to diffuse the tension between them and draw her attention back to the topic at hand. "Detective Stabler needs to be here for this, we all need to be privy to what's at stake for your own safety so we can ascertain the risks. So if you can please just tell us how you know this man."

She exhales heavily through her nose, a wave of surrender moving through her, there was literally no way out of this fire except to walk blindly through it.

"Australian," she whispers. "Right?"

Greene nods and she sees Elliot do a double take.

She chances one more glance at Elliot before she rounds the couch from the other side. He has left barely any space between him and the couch so she has no choice but to knock his knees lightly as she passes. She drops back down onto the sofa, her hands returning to a clasped, prayer like position as if she could somehow pray her way out of this situation.

"He said his name was Drew.. not Andrew," she explains.

An-drew.

Greene sits a little forward as if they were finally getting somewhere.

"Okay good and can you confirm the nature of your relationship?"

"We don't have one." She cuts him off before anyone in the room can make that assumption.

"Okay.. so what would you call it?" Greene parts his hands in question. "An acquaintance? A person you met in town?"

She runs her hands up and down her thighs, trying to rid the clamminess that's accumulating beneath her palms.

"I guess you could say that," she sighs.

She knows she is being evasive as hell but she is also hell bent on not divulging unnecessarily information. Her eyes are desperate to move back to Elliot's to gauge his current reaction to all of this but she figures it is best from that point forward to pretend he isn't in the room for this.

She keeps her stare trained on solely Greene. "I met him during my first week in town," she continues. "And without getting into specifics, I can assure you he's not a threat."

"Olivia." Greene clears his throat. "We _will_ need specifics, he was carrying a second ID, he asked for both of your names - if he's not a threat you're going to need to fill in those blanks for us because from where we're sitting he's our primary point of interest."

Her fingers flex at the newfound seriousness in Greene's tone and the emphasis on 'us' as if he and Elliot had both been sitting around shooting the breeze, discussing this situation at length.

She know she's not going to get away with evasiveness anymore.

"The two ID's.." she sucks in a breath, trying her best to craft her words as strategically as possible. "He mentioned something about a job in New Jersey, electrical or carpentry work.. that's where he said he was headed after. I don't think he had the proper visa paperwork so I'd hazard a guess that the second ID had something to do with that."

"You'd hazard a guess…" Greene repeats, his tone making it abundantly clear that this wasn't a time for assumptions or guesses. "And the reason that he would know both your names?"

Greene's eye contact doesn't waiver and her eye line drops down to her lap for a few short moments before they lift back up to his. "Ah, that was an error on my part."

The room stills and she shakes her head at the mere stupidity of it all.

"It was my first week, I led with Laura and it was later that I let it slip.. it was.." she sighs, not finishing the sentence entirely but the word is in the room.

 _Stupid_.

A wave of silence moves through all three of them, she can feel the tension filtering out until it pads all four corners of the room.

"And where did you meet this man?" Greene continues.

"At the bar in town - 'Sam's Bar' I think it's called?" She presses her lips into a thin line but she can feel it, as much as she is doing a great job trying to block Elliot out entirely, the heat of his stare was palpable.

She waits uncomfortably for the next inevitable question.

"And he approached you?" Greene asks.

 _Silence._

She cannot believe these questions – she understands why they are being asked and that in the Agent's eyes, they're mandatory but she also knows without a shadow of a doubt that he is in no way connected to Moore.

She worries her lower lip, trying to figure out how best she can dodge this question because she refuses to parade details of her personal life in front of Elliot for zero reason.

Greene clasps his hands together, mirroring Olivia's stance.

"Listen," he begins, clearly gauging the discomfort in Olivia's eyes. "We just want to make sure we get both your stories straight, we have his version of events, we just want to know that it correlates with yours, then we can feel more comfortable releasing him - but until then we can't just let him walk."

 _His version of events._

Her heart begins to thud.

He already knows.

He knows everything.

And yet he is going to make her say it - right in front of Elliot, he's going to drag each and every detail out of her piece by piece.

"I approached him," she says through gritted teeth.

There is a pause in the air as a wave of tension does rounds across the room.

"Okay," Greene warms to her compliance. "And why did you feel compelled to approach Mr Mathers?"

She presses her eyes closed, trying not to sigh. "I heard his accent from across the bar," she recalls. "He seemed interesting, he didn't fit the profile of the typical locals.. I guess you could say I was a little starved for company out here."

Elliot's chair moves suddenly, the obnoxious squeak jarring her, reminding her that he was in fact still very present for this.

"And was that when he divulged his plan to work here illegally?" Greene ignores the disturbance.

She worries her lower lip once more before she releases it. "It was the next day."

A second wave of tension does rounds across the room.

"So you made plans to meet up the next day?" Greene questions neutrally.

She blinks back at the Agent's perceptive expression, she knows he isn't stupid, both of them clearly know the full story, and whatever Greene was pretending to read on that paper each time he looked down was pure bullshit.

She swallows - denial won't help, deception won't either, and her strategic choice of words now seemed pretty pointless.

"He told me the next morning.. over breakfast."

A few beats pass.

"So you spent the night together?" Greene asks the obvious.

"Yes."

Greene looks around the small cabin, his eyes subtly catching Elliot's on their pursuit.

"Here?" He motions to the living room. "He stayed here?"

"No," Olivia corrects. "I stayed with him, in town."

"In his motel room?" Greene questions.

"Yes." She responds as neutrally as possible, her heartbeat a rapid thud in her chest.

"The Lakeview Motel on Main Street?"

"Yes."

She doesn't dare look at Elliot in that moment, she expects another insufferable chair squeak to echo through the cabin but there is only stillness and silence.

Greene's eyes move back to hers. "So you never brought him back here?" His fingers tap the couch beneath him. "He never knew were you lived? It was never mentioned?"

"No one knows where I live Agent Greene," she leans forward to make that clear. "That's the whole point of being out here right?"

A humourless laugh fills the room and her face whips over to Elliot, her eyebrows lifting in shock when they lock with his.

"First intelligent thing I've heard all morning," he mutters to no one in particular.

 _Did he really just say that?_

He has to be fucking kidding..

In front of a federal agent.

She is speechless.

A large part of her wants to stand up, push the table forward and storm the hell out of there but she is frozen in place. She knows it will do no good – she is bound to this interview until it's over and she will not give him the satisfaction of reacting to his insult. She moves her gaze intentionally back to Greene's, disbelief still churning in her gut as she refuses to let Elliot's jarring comment land.

"Just a couple more questions," Greene he assures her with a professional pokerface, gauging that she is close to the end of her tether. "Can you please clarify that it was just the one night you spent with him?"

The question had come out methodical without tone or judgement but she could feel the humiliation slamming into her like a wall.

Just the one night?

 _One night._

One night stand..

"Yes," she says through gritted teeth. "He was leaving for Jersey the next morning," she explains, offering reasoning for their limited interaction, knowing full well that if she had the chance she probably wouldn't have sought out second. "He mentioned he'd be coming back through a few months later, he said he'd look me up when he did. It was a passing comment, I didn't give him my number or a way of contacting me, so I can only assume that's why he was seeking me out."

"For round two?"

That came from Elliot and her face shoots across to his.

Her cheeks flame with heat, her heart thumping heavily in her chest as she blinks back at him in shock. She cannot believe it – again. She glares at him and it's a physical pull, she literally has to restrain herself from launching at him in that moment.

 _Did he really just say that to her?_

 _In front of an Agent?_

She feels like she has just been backhanded.

"Olivia." Greene interjects quickly, realising he has minutes – seconds more likely, to grasp the reigns of this interview before Olivia pulls the pin.

"I just have one more question, then I'll let you both-"

But it's Elliot that stands up unexpectedly, the chair squeaking loudly against the floorboards indicating that _he_ was in fact the one that was done.

She watches dumbfounded as he stalks towards the open veranda doors, his boots clanking against wood before he disappears down the front steps. She is still watching his form disappear when Greene moves across the couch, his face filling her eye line directly.

"Detective," Greene begins with sympathy in his voice, trying to bring her back to the present moment. "I just need to ask one more thing, then I can let you rest."

Her eyes move back to his.

 _Detective_.

She knows her embarrassment is evident in her cheeks and the fury over Elliot's behaviour is plastered right across her face - yet somehow she is still seated, somehow she still hasn't left, despite the fact that every fibre in her body screaming at her to do so.

"I just need to know if lines were blurred during your interactions with Mr Mathers," Greene questions. "Did you feel unsafe or threatened in any way? Because at this point we aren't ruling anyone out as a suspect and given the nature of Moore's intent I think it's valid we take this seriously. Mather's could have easily been prepping you, gaining your trust, intent on coming back now to carry out Moore's detailed instructions."

She shakes her head, still unable to fathom what had just happened with Elliot let alone Greene's insinuation, she scrubs a hand down her face, trying desperately to reign in her impending anger. She understands the question Greene is asking – _she does_ , this is literally the kind of protocol she used to carry out on a daily basis with victims but she knows without a shadow of a doubt there was no risk with this guy – no red flags.

"He's Australian," she begins, her voice cracking before her heavy eyes move back to his. "As far as I know Moore's connections don't span other continents, and regardless as you know I've had over a decade of experience in sex crimes, I can spot the signs and I can tell you, he didn't display a single one of them."

"Okay good, so he wasn't aggressive or dominant with you… sexually."

She runs a hand through her hair, she wants to laugh at the directness of that question.

"The sex was consensual." She confirms flatly.

"Right, but was it dominant?" Greene prods.

Jesus he's starting to sound like Elliot. She wonders in that moment if they'd discussed these questions prior. _Had Elliot known all along they would be asked?_ _Had he really not given her the heads up?_

Her eyes return to Greene's, she literally feels like she is getting vicariously grilled by her partner and she shakes her head, never in all her years on the job had she ever felt so put on display and pulled apart, even when Tucker had gone at her round after round.

"We were on the same page Agent Greene," she presses.

"And what page was that?"

"The consensual kind." She snaps.

She stands up then, wobbling a little on her feet, still feeling the residual effects of the drugs from last night as she steadiest herself.

"He's not a threat," she whispers down at the agent well and truly deflated. "Now are we done here?"

Greene nods.

"Good," she responds. "You can let yourself out."

 _She needs a shower._

 **TBC**


	22. Chapter 22

_AN: Okay firstly can I just say I just love hearing how these updates are helping to ease your quarantine experiences, even if they're only minimally brightening your day that makes me so happy to hear. I'm currently working on a range of EO updates but wanted to send something to tide you over in the meantime._ _This will most likely disappoint in length and set up lol but I'll be back soon I promise. In the meantime,_ _thank you so much for the kind words and support. It means a lot and keeps me going! Stay safe._ _X_

* * *

The cascading water plummets down her body, the searing heat a welcome relief.

She is livid.

Beyond livid.

 _'The first intelligent thing I've heard all morning.'_

Asshole.

 _'I can only assume that's why he was seeking me out.'_

 _'For round two?'_

Fucking.

Asshole.

He has no right.

None.

She cannot believe his behaviour - and all of it in front of a federal agent who she'll continually have to liaise with now for the foreseeable future.

She wonders if those baseless, tactless comments would have still come had they not been living in such close quarters, had they not been sharing a bed - had she not playfully slipped his hand across her ass last night.

He was currently acting like a possessive boyfriend, not her partner.

But even she knows those comments weren't a result of their recent predicament, they were probably sitting ripe on his tongue way back in the Porter era just waiting for an excuse to come out.

Only he managed some semblance of professionalism back then.

Only just.

 _You need a lift home?_

 _I'm good thanks._

She switches off the shower and the pipes grind to a halt above her.

 _Does he really expect them to play happy families now after that? Does he really expect her to just walk out there and make peace with him right now? What the hell was he thinking?_

He was right to leave the room when he did and she hopes for his sake he isn't coming back anytime soon because she's going to need hours – _no wait - days,_ to come to terms with the anger circulating.

She steps out onto the cold tiles, she's still shaky on her feet and her hand comes out to grasp the ridge of the sink, steadying herself as a wave of dizziness overtakes.

That's when she remembers how dehydrated she is and how that could be accounting for her dizziness. She dips her mouth under the faucet and starts to gulp back sip after sip, breathing through her nose as she downs the liquid.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and then yanks the towel off the rack with a snatch, the metal bar spinning with a jarring squeak.

She knows he's out there, she knows he has come back - of course he has, it's his job to be in close proximity with her at all times and just because Andrew turned out to be a false alarm doesn't mean she was in anyway out of the woods just yet.

This truly was a never ending shit-storm.

She wraps the towel around her, knotting it tightly across her breasts, noticing the faint tank-top tan line that's slightly visible from her morning walks. The shower had done nothing to dispel her anger, in fact it had given her further clarity that Elliot had been completely out of line.

She was going to towel off, get dressed – then it was showtime.

* * *

He fucked up.

He knows it, she knows it - _hell_ Agent bloody Greene even knows it.

He doesn't need to know the source of that untapped rage he saw spiralling behind her irises to know it was a result of his words.

Yes he fucked up.

But she fucked up first.

That's what he wants to tell her – that's what he wants to say.

She had one job, _one fucking job_ \- to stay home.

 _Period._

He hadn't believed half the details Greene had relayed to him about Mathers so that's why he lost it – he wasn't expecting her to corroborate his story and he was blindsided. He had been hoping she would have denied it, shot down the allegations immediately but yet it turns out one week into her relocation and she was gallivanting into a new town to meet God knows who for God knows what.

He keeps picturing her in that bar – sporting some sort of casual yet enticing outfit - tight jeans, a low cut top maybe, a leather jacket or perhaps something lighter like denim. He imagines her drink order would have been the same she orders in the city, only then she'd follow it up with something different because she can.

A fruity cocktail, a glass of local wine, or maybe even a shot or two..

He wonders how much alcohol played a factor in her decision to go back to his motel room or if it played any at all – maybe he just wants to think that's the only reason she went there. Maybe he doesn't want to face the real possibility that she's a strong, capable, independent woman that could have made the adult decision to be intimate with a stranger.

Maybe that's why she went out in the first place, she approached him after all.

That's the detail that keeps playing over and over in his mind - she was seeking _him_ out, not the other way.

He was not jealous.

He knows she will think that of him but he's not. That's not what this is about, he's pissed at her and there is a difference – pissed that she took such a huge risk with so much at stake.

That's what he keeps telling himself.

He's just pissed.

Except even he knows that's bullshit.

He _is_ jealous.

He's jealous as fuck, and there was no way he's going to be able to hide that from her, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to confirm that's the main driver here. He _wants_ her and now he's just singlehandedly screwed things up monumentally, he detonated things between them before they even had a chance at developing and now they have to co-inhabit uncomfortably post the colossal shit-storm he just caused for God knows how long.

 _'For round two?'_

 _Fuck_.

He needs to apologise.

Because that was low.

The whole thing was low.

He needs to just say he is sorry, he knows that would be the smart thing to do – only he doesn't think he can do that right now because he is so damn mad at how irresponsible her decision was – she had told him _both_ of her names for Christ sake. He tried to hold his tongue but he couldn't sit on that couch a second longer and listen to how she had endangered her life for the nineteenth time.

Gitano, Stuckey, Bushido, Rojas.

 _Enough_.

He was still her partner after all and he has a right to be concerned.

But it's the other factor at play here that he's worried about – the one that she's going to call him on.

 _He doesn't want anyone else touching her._

Mathers had just sparked that truth tenfold and it was currently sitting dormant beneath his anger. He isn't proud of that fact, he doesn't want to feel like a territorial prick that can't communicate his feelings properly so he lashes out instead.

But after the onslaught of imagery this scenario has conjured up he was blindsided. Now all he can picture are those chocolate pools inviting the prick in with that come hither look as she tongues the salt of the margarita glass. He can hear the low tone of her voice - breathy, yet calm and in control, like she uses when she's undercover, casually flirty, with just enough alcohol in her system to loosen her up.

He has thought about that version of her many, many times..

And how badly he's always wanted it directed at him.

But he can't lead with that.

She risked everything that night, her location, the entire operation, _her physical life_ \- so that is what he is going to lead with.

As soon as she comes out of that bathroom, it's showtime.

 **TBC**


End file.
